Library, 

°f  CallfotnV^; 


THE 


WONDERS  OF  POMPEII 


\r 


BY 


MARC     MONNIER. 


TRANSLATED     FROM     THE     ORIGINAL     FRENCH 


NEW    YORK: 
CHARLES     SCRIBNER    &     CO., 

654    BROADWAY. 
1871. 


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«  "    •  c     •  *     e  ,•    *    * «• *  •    «••••**«, 


TROW  4.  SMITH  BOOK  MANUF'O  CO.. 


/ 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Facing  pag« 
Recent  Excavations  Made  at  Pompeii  in  1860,  under 

the  Direction  of  the  Inspector,  Signor  Fiorelli 25 

The  Rubbish  Trucks  Going  up  Empty. 3d 

Clearing  out  a  Narrow  Street  in  Pompeii 33 

Plan  of  Vesuvius 39 

The  Forum 42 

Discovery  of  Loaves  Baked  1800  Years  Ago,  in  the 

Oven  of  a  Baker 84 

Closed  House,  with  a  Balcony,  Recently  Discovered. . .     87 

The  Nola  Gate  at  Pompeii 96 

The  Herculaneum  Gate  Restored 99 

The  Tepidarium,  at  the  Thermae 126 

The  Atrium  of  the  House  of  Pansa  Restored 138 

Candelabra,  Trinkets,  and  Kitchen  Utensils  Found  at 

Pompeii 148 

Kitchen  Utensils  found  at  Pompeii. 150 

Earthenware  and  Bronze  Lamps  Found  at  Pompeii. . . .  154 
Collar,  Ring,  Bracelet,  and  Ear-rings  Found  at  Pompeii,  158 

Peristyle  of  the  House  of  Quaestor,  at  Pompeii 167 

Tho  House  of  Lucretius 1G9 

The  Exaedra  of  the  House  of  the  Poet 185 

The  Exaedra  of  the  House  of  the  Poet  —  Second  View,  189 

The  Smaller  Theatre  at  Pompeii 206 

The  Amphitheatre  at  Pompeii 220 

Bodies  of  Pompeians  Cast  in  the  Ashes  of  the  Erup- 
tion    2J9 


CONTENTS 


I. 

THE    EXHUMED    CITY. 

Pag« 
The  Antique  Landscape.  —  The  History  of  Pompeii  Before 

and  After  its  Destruction.  —  How  it  was  Buried  and  Ex- 
humed. —  WinHemann  as  a  Prophet.  —  The  Excavations 
in  the  Reign  of  Charles  III.,  of  Murat,  and  of  Ferdi- 
nand. —  The  Excavations  as  they  now  are.  —  Signor 
Fiorelli.  —  Appearance  of  the  Ruins.  —  What  is  and  What 
is  not  found  there 13 

II. 

THE    FORUM. 

Diomed's  Inn.  —  The  Niche  of  Minerva.  —  The  Appearance 
and  The  Monuments  of  the  Forum.  —  The  Antique  Tem- 
ple. —  The  Pagan  ex-Voto  Offerings.  —  The  Merchants' 
City  Exchange  and  the  Petty  Exchange.  —  The  Pan- 
theon, or  was  it  a  Temple,  a  Slaughter-house,  or  a  Tav- 
ern?—The  Style  of  Cooking  and  the  Form  of  Religion. 

vii 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Page 

—  The  Temple  of  Venus.  —  The  Basilica.  —  The  Inscrip- 
tions of  Passers-by  upon  the  Walls.  —  The  Forum  Re- 
built  37 

in. 

THE    STREET. 

The  Plan  of  Pompeii.  —  The  Princely  Names  of  the  Houses. 

—  Appearance  of  the  Streets,  Pavements,  Sidewalks,  etc. 

—  The  Shops  and  the  Signs.  —  The  Perfumer,  the  Sur- 
geon, etc.  —  An  Ancient  Manufactory.  —  Bathing  Estab- 
lishments. —  Wine-shops,  Disreputable  Resorts.  —  Hang- 
ing Balconies,  Fountains.  —  Public  Placards :  Let  us 
Nominate  Battur !  Commit  no  Nuisance !  —  Religion  on 
the  Street 67 


IV. 


THE    SUBURBS. 

The  Custom  House.  —  The  Fortifications  and  the  Gates.  — 
The  Roman  Highways.  —  The  Cemetery  of  Pompeii.  — 
Funerals:  the  Procession,  the  funeral  Pyre,  the  Day  of 
the  Dead.  —  The  Tombs  and  their  Inscriptions.  —  Per- 
petual Leases.  —  Burial  of  the  Rich,  of  Animals,  and  of 
the  Poor.  —  The  Villas  of  Diomed  and  Cicero        .        .    93 


CONTENTS.  IX 


THE    THERMAE 


The  Hot  Baths  at  Rome.  —  The  Therms  of  Stabia3.  —  A 
Tilt  at  Sun  Dials.  — A  Complete  Bath,  as  the  Ancients 
Considered  It:  the  Apartments,  the  Slaves,  the  Un- 
guents, the  Strigillas.  — A  Saying  of  the  Emperor  Had- 
rian. —  The  Baths  for,  Women.  —  The  Reading  Room.  — 
The  Roman  Newspaper.  -  The  Heating  Apparatus  .       .120 

VI. 

THE    DWELLINGS. 

Paratus  and  Pansa.  —  The  Atrium  and  the  Peristyle.  —  The 
Dwelling  Refurnished  and  Repeopled.  —  The  Slaves,  the 
Kitchen,  and  the  Table.  —  The  Morning  Occupations  of 
a  Pompeian.  —  The  Toilet  of  a  Pompeian  Lady.  —  A  Cit- 
izen Supper:  the  Courses,  the  Guests.  —The  Homes  of 
the  Poor,  and  the  Palaces  of  Rome        .        ...  135 

VII. 

ART    IN    POMPEII. 

The  Homes  of  the  Wealthy.  —  The  Triangular  Forum  and 
the  Temples.  —  Pompeian  Architecture :  Its  Merits  and 
its   Defects.  —  The  Artists  of   the    Little    City.  —  The 


X  CONTENTS. 

Page 

Paintings  here.  —  Landscapes,  Figures,  Rope-dancers, 
Dancing-girls,  Centaurs,  Gods,  Heroes,  the  Iliad  Illus- 
trated.—  Mosaics. — Statues  and  Statuettes. — Jewelry. 

—  Carved  Glass.  —  Art  and  Life 167 

VIII. 

THE    THEATRES. 

The  Arrangement  of  the  Places  of  Amusement.  —  Entrance 
Tickets.  —  The  Velarium,  the  Orchestra,  the  Stage.  — 
The  Odeon. — The  Holconii. — The  Side  Scenes,  the  Masks. 

—  The  Atellan  Farces.  —  The  Mimes.  —  Jugglers,  etc.  — 
A  Remark  of  Cicero  on  the  Melodramas.  —  The  Barrack 
of  the  Gladiators.  —  Scratched  Inscriptions,  Instruments 
of  Torture.  —  The  Pompeian  Gladiators.  —  The  Amphi- 
theatre: Hunts,  Combats,  Butcheries,  etc.       .        .        .  1<99 

IX. 

THE    ERUPTION. 

The  Deluge  of  Ashes.  —  The  Deluge  of  Fire.  —  The  Flight 
of  the  Pompeians.  — The  Preoccupations  of  the  Pom- 
peian Women.  —The  Victims:  the  Family  of  Diomed;  the 
Sentinel;  the  Woman  Walled  up  in  a  Tomb;  the  Priest 
of  Isis ;  the  Lovers  clinging  together,  etc.  —  The  Skele- 
tons. —  The  Dead  Bodies  moulded  by  Vesuvius       .        .  232 


DIALOGUE. 

tIN  A  BOOKSTORE  AT  NAPLES.) 


A  Traveller  {entering).  —  Have  you  any  work  on 
Pompeii  % 

Tue  Salesman.  —  Yes ;  we  have  several.  Here,  for 
instance,  is  Bulwer's  "  Last  Days  of  Pompeii." 

Traveller.  —  Too  thoroughly  romantic. 

Salesman.  —  Well,  here  are  the  folios  of  Mazois. 

Traveller.  —  Too  heavy. 

Salesman.  —  Here's  Dumas's  "  Corricolo." 

Traveller.  —  Too  light. 

Salesman.  —  How  would  ISTicolini's  magnificent 
work  suit  you? 

Traveller.  —  Oh!    that's  too  dear. 

Salesman.  —  Here's  Commander  Aloe's  "Guide." 

Traveller.  —  That's  too  dry. 

(xi) 


All  DIALOGUE. 

Salesman.— Neither  dry,  nor  romantic,  nor  light, 
nor  heavy!     "What,  then,  would  you  have,  sir? 

Traveller.  —  A  small,  portable  work;  accurate, 
conscientious,  and  within  everybody's  reach. 

Salesman.  —  Ah,  sir,  we  have  nothing  of  that 
kind ;  besides,  it  is  impossible  to  get  up  such  a  work. 

The  Author  {aside).  —  Who  knows? 


THE 


"Wonders  of  Pompeii. 


i. 

THE    EXHUMED    CITY. 


The  Ant/que  Landscape. — 7ns  History  of  Pompeii  Before  and  After  its 
Destruction.  —  How  it  was  Buried  and  Exhumed.  —  Winkelmann  as  a 
Prophet.  —The  Excavations  in  the  Reign  of  Charles  III.,  of  Murat, 
and  of  Ferdinand.  —  The  Excavations  as  they  now  are.  —  Signor 
Fiorelli.  —Appearance  of  the  Ruins.  —What  is  and  What  is  not  Found 
There. 


A  railroad  runs  from  Naples  to  Pompeii.  Are 
you  alone  ?  The  trip  occupies  one  hour,  and  you  have 
just  time  enough  to  read  what  follows,  pausing  once 
in  a  while  to  glance  at  Vesuvius  and  the  sea;  the 
clear,  bright  waters  hemmed  in  by  the  gentle  curve  of 
the  promontories;  a  bluish  coast  that  approaches  and 
becomes  green ;  a  green  coast  that  withdraws  into  the 
distance  and  becomes  blue ;  Castellamare  looming  up, 
and  Naples  receding.   All  these  lines  and  colors  existed 

*  <«3> 


14  TUE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

too  at  the  time  when  Pompeii  was  destroyed :  the  island 
of  Prochyta,  the  cities  of  Baia3,  of  Bauli,  of  ISTeapolis, 
and  of  Surrentum  bore  the  names  that  they  retain. 
Portici  was  called  Herculaneum ;  Torre  dell'  Annunzi- 
ata  was  called  Oplontes ;  Castellamare,  Stabia3 ;  Mise- 
num  and  Minerva  designated  the  two  extremities  of  the 
gulf.  However,  Vesuvius  was  not  what  it  has  become ; 
fertile  and  wooded  almost  to  the  summit,  covered  with 
orchards  and  vines,  it  must  have  resembled  the  pictur- 
esque heights  of  Monte  San  Angelo,  toward  which 
we  are  rolling.  The  summit  alone,  honeycombed  with 
caverns  and  covered  with  black  stones,  betrayed  to  the 
learned  a  volcano  "  long  extinct."  It  was  to  blaze  out 
again,  however,  in  a  terrible  eruption ;  and,  since  then, 
it  has  constantly  named  and  smoked,  menacing  the 
ruins  it  has  made  and  the  new  cities  that  brave  it, 
calmly  reposing  at  its  feet. 

What  do  you  expect  to  find  at  Pompeii  %  At  a  dis- 
tance, its  antiquity  seems  enormous,  and  the  word 
"ruins"  awakens  colossal  conceptions  in  the  excited 
fancy  of  the  traveller.  But,  be  not  self-deceived ;  that 
is  the  first  rule  in  knocking  about  over  the  world 
Pompeii  was  a  small  city  of  only  thirty  thousand  souls ; 


THE   EXHUMED   CITY.  15 

something  like  what  Geneva  was  thirty  years  ago. 
Like  Geneva,  too,  it  was  marvellously  situated — in  the 
depth  of  a  picturesque  valley  between  mountains  shut- 
ting in  the  horizon  on  one  side,  at  a  few  steps  from 
the  sea  and  from  a  streamlet,  once  a  river,  which 
plunges  into  it — and  by  its  charming  site  attracted 
personages  of  distinction,  although  it  was  peopled 
chiefly  with  merchants  and  others  in  easy  circum- 
stances; shrewd,  prudent  folk,  and  probably  honest 
and  clever  enough,  as  well.  The  etymologists,  after 
having  exhausted,  in  their  lexicons,  all  the  words  that 
chime  in  sound  with  Pompeii,  have,  at  length,  agreed 
in  deriving  the  name  from  a  Greek  verb  which  signi- 
fies to  send,  to  transport,  and  hence  they  conclude 
that  many  of  the  Pompeians  were  engaged  in  exporta- 
tion, or  perhaps,  were  emigrants  sent  from  a  distance 
to  form  a  colony.  Yet  these  opinions  are  but  conjec- 
tures, and  it  is  useless  to  dwell  on  them. 

All  that  can  be  positively  stated  is  that  the  city  was 
the  entrepot  of  the  trade  of  Nola,  Nocera,  and  Atella. 
Its  port  was  large  enough  to  receive  a  naval  armament, 
for  it  sheltered  the  fleet  of  P.  Cornelius.  This  port, 
mentioned  by  certain  authors,  has  led  many  to  believe 


16  THE  WONDERS   OF  POMPEII. 

that  the  sea  washed  the  walls  of-  Pompeii,  and  some 
guides  have  even  thought  they  could  discover  the  rings 
that  once  held  the  cables  of  the  galleys.  Unfortu- 
nately for  this  idea,  at  the  place  which  the  imagination 
of  some  of  our  contemporaries  covered  with  salt  water, 
there  were  one  day  discovered  the  vestiges  of  old 
structures,  and  it  is  now  conceded  that  Pompeii,  like 
many  other  seaside  places,  had  its  harbor  at  a  distance. 
Our  little  city  made  no  great  noise  in  history.  Taci- 
tus and  Seneca  speak  of  it  as  celebrated,  but  the 
Italians  of  all  periods  have  been  fond  of  superlatives. 
You  will  find  some  very  old  buildings  in  it,  proclaim- 
ing an  ancient  origin,  and  Oscan  inscriptions  recalling 
the  antique  language  of  the  country.  When  the  Sam- 
nites  invaded  the  whole  of  Campania,  as  though  to 
deliver  it  over  more  easily  to  Eome,  they  probably 
occupied  Pompeii,  which  figured  in  the  second  Sam- 
nite  war,  B.  C.  310,  and  which,  revolting  along  with 
the  entire  valley  of  the  Sarno  from  Nocera  to  Stabia3, 
repulsed  an  incursion  of  the  Romans  and  drove  them 
back  to  their  vessels.  The  third  Samnite  war  was,  as 
is  well  known,  a  bloody  vengeance  for  this,  and  Pom- 
peii became  Eoman.    Although  the  yoke  of  the  con- 


THE  EXHUMED  CITY.  17 

querors  was  not  very  heavy  —  the  municvpii  retaining 
their  Senate,  their  magistrates,  their  comitim  or  councils, 
and  paying  a  tribute  of  men  only  in  case  of  war — the 
Samnite  populations,  clinging  frantically  to  the  idea  of 
a  separate  and  independent  existence,  rose  twice  again 
in  revolt;  once  just  after  the  battle  of  Cannse,  when 
they  threw  themselves  into  the  arms  of  Hannibal,  and 
then  against  Sylla,  one  hundred  and  twenty-four  years 
later  —  facts  that  prove  the  tenacity  of  their  resistance. 
On  both  occasions  Pompeii  was  retaken,  and  the 
second  time  partly  dismantled  and  occupied  by  a  de- 
tachment of  soldiers,  who  did  not  long  remain  there. 
And  thus  we  have  the  whole  history  of  this  little  city. 
The  Eomans  were  fond  of  living  there,  and  Cicero  had 
a  residence  in  the  place,  to  which  he  frequently  refers 
in  his  letters.  Augustus  sent  thither  a  colony  which 
founded  the  suburb  of  Augustus  Felix,  administered 
by  a  mayor.  The  Emperor  Claudius  also  had  a  villa 
at  Pompeii,  and  there  lost  one  of  his  children,  who  per- 
ished by  a  singular  mishap.  The  imperial  lad  was 
amusing  himself,  as  the  Neapolitan  boys  do  to  this 
day,  by  throwing  pears  up  into  the  air  and  catching 

them  in  his  mouth  as  they  fell.     One  of  the- fruits 
2* 


18  THE   WONDERS   OF  POMTEII. 

choked  liim  by  descending  too  far  into  his  throat. 
But  the  Neapolitan  youngsters  perform  the  feat  with 
figs,  which  render  it  infinitely  less  dangerous. 

We  are,  then,  going  to  visit  a  small  city  subordinate 
to  Rome,  much  les^s  than  Marseilles  is  to  Paris,  and  a 
little  more  so  than  Geneva  is  to  Berne.  Pompeii  had 
almost  nothing  to  do  with  the  Senate  or  the  Emperor. 
The  old  tongue  —  the  Oscan  —  had  ceased  to  be  offi- 
cial, and  the  authorities  issued  their  orders  in  Latin. 
The  residents  of  the  place  were  Boman  citizens,  Borne 
being  recognized  as  the  capital  and  fatherland.  The 
local  legislation  was  made  secondary  to  Boman  legisla- 
tion. But,  excepting  these  reservations,  Pompeii 
formed  a  little  world,  apart,  independent,  and  complete 
in  itself.  She  had  a  miniature  Senate,  composed  of 
decurions ;  an  aristocracy  in  epitome,  represented  by 
the  AugustaleSj  answering  to  knights ;  and  then  eame 
her  plebs  or  common  people.  She  chose  her  own 
pontiffs,  convoked  the  comitise,  promulged  municipal 
laws,  regulated  military  levies,  collected  taxes ;  in  fine 
selected  her  own  immediate  rulers  —  her  consuls  (the 
duumvirs  dispensing  justice),  her  ediles,  her  quaestors, 
etc.    Hence,  it  is  not  a  provincial  city  that  we  are  to 


TIIE   EXHUMED   CITY.  19 

survey,  but  a  petty  State  which  had  preserved,  its 
autonomy  within  the  unity  of  the  Empire,  and  was,  as 
has  been  cleverly  said,  a  miniature  of  Borne. 

Another  circumstance  imparts  a  peculiar  interest 
to  Pompeii.  That  city,  winch  seemed  to  have  no  good 
luck,  had  been  violently  shaken  by  earthquake  in  the 
year  B.  C.  63.  Several  temples  had  toppled  down 
along  with  the  colonnade  of  the  Forum,  the  great 
Basilica,  and  the  theatres,  without  counting  the  tombs 
and  houses.  Nearly  every  family  fled  from  the  place, 
taking  with  them  their  furniture  and  their  statuary ; 
and  the  Senate  hesitated  a  long  time  before  they  al- 
lowed the  city  to  be  rebuilt  and  the  deserted  district 
to  be  re-peopled.  The  Pompeians  at  last  returned; 
but  the  decurions  wished  to  make  the  restoration  of 
the  place  a  complete  rejuvenation.  The  columns  of 
the  Forum  speedily  reappeared,  but  with  capitals  in  the 
fashion  of  the  day;  the  Corinthian-Boman  order, 
adopted  almost  everywhere,  changed  the  style  of  the 
monuments ;  the  old  shafts  covered  with  stucco  were 
patched  up  for  the  new  topwork  they  were  to  receive, 
and  the  Oscan  inscriptions  disappeared.  From  all  this 
there  sprang  great  blunders  in   an  artistic  point  of 


20  THE  WONDEfiS   OF  POMPEII. 

view,  but  a  uniformity  and  consistency  that  please 
those  who  are  fond  of  monuments  and  cities  of  one 
continuous  derivation.  Taste  loses,  but  harmony  gains 
thereby,  and  you  pass  in  review  a  collective  totality  of 
edifices  that  bear  their  age  upon  their  fronts,  and  give 
a  very  exact  and  vivid  idea  of  what  a  mwiicep&  a 
Roman  colony  must  have  been  in  the  time  of  Ves- 
pasian. 

They  went  to  work,  then,  to  rebuild  the  city,  and 
the  undertaking  was  pushed  on  quite  vigorously, 
thanks  to  the  contributions  of  the  Pompeians,  es- 
pecially of  the  functionaries.  The  temples  of  Jupiter 
and  of  Venus  —  we  adopt  the  consecrated  names  — 
and  those  of  Isis  and  of  Fortune,  were  already  up ;  the 
theatres  were  rising  again ;  the  handsome  columns  of 
the  Forum  were  ranging  themselves  under  their  por- 
ticoes ;  the  residences  were  gay  with  brilliant  paintings ; 
work  and  pleasure  had  both  resumed  their  activity; 
life  hurried  to  and  fro  through  the  streets,  and  crowds 
thronged  the  amphitheatre,  when,  all  at  once,  burst 
forth  the  terrible  eruption  of  79.  I  will  describe  it 
further  on;  but  here  simply  recall  the  fact  that  it 
buried  Pompeii  under  a  deluge  of  stones  and  ashes, 


THE  EXHUMED  CIT1.  21 

"This  re-awakening  of  the  volcano  destroyed  three  cities, 
without  counting  the  villages,  and  depopulated  the 
country  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

After  the  catastrophe,  however,  the  inhabitants  re- 
turned, and  made  the  first  excavations  in  order  to 
recover  their  valuables;  and  robbers,  too — we  shall 
surprise  them  in  the  very  act — crept  into  the  subter- 
ranean city.  It  is  a  fact  that  the  Emperor  Titus  for 
a  moment  entertained  the  idea  of  clearing  and  restor- 
ing it,  and  with  that  view  sent  two  Senators  to  the  spot, 
intrusted  with  the  mission  of  making  the  first  study 
of  the  ground;  but  it  would  appear  that  the  magni- 
tude of  the  work  appalled  those  dignitaries,  and  that 
the  restoration  in  question  never  got  beyond  the  con- 
dition of  a  mere  project.  Kome  soon  had  more  serious 
cares  to  occupy  her  than  the  fate  of  a  petty  city  that 
ere  long  disappeared  beneath  vineyards,  orchards,  and 
gardens,  and  under  a  thick  growth  of  woodland — 
remark  this  latter  circumstance — until,  at  length,  cen- 
turies accumulated,  and  with  them  the  forgetfnlness 
that  buries  all  things.  Pompeii  was  then,  so  to  speak, 
lost,  and  the  few  learned  men  who  knew  it  by  name 
could  not  point  out  its  site.    When,  at  the  close  of  tho 


22  THE  WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

sixteenth  century,  the  architect  Fontana  was  con- 
structing a  subterranean  canal  to  convey  the  waters  oJ 
the  Sarno  to  Torre  dell'  Annunziata,  the  conduit 
passed  through  Pompeii,  from  one  end  to  the  other, 
piercing  the  walls,  following  the  old  streets,  and  com- 
ing upon  sub -structures  and  inscriptions ;  but  no  one 
bethought  him  that  they  had  discovered  the  place  of 
the  buried  city.  However,  the  amphitheatre,  which, 
roofed  in  by  a  layer  of  the  soil,  formed  a  regular  ex- 
cavation, indicated  an  ancient  edifice,  and  the  neigh- 
boring peasantry,  with  better  information  than  the 
learned,  designated  by  the  half -Latin  name  of  Civita, 
which  dim  tradition  had  handed  down,  the  soil  and 
debris  that  had  accumulated  above  Pompeii. 

It  was  only  in  1748,  under  the  reign  of  Charles  III, 
when  the  discovery  of  Herculaneum  had  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  world  to  the  antiquities  thus  buried, 
that,  some  vine-dressers  having  struck  upon  some  old 
walls  with  their  picks  and  spades,  and  in  so  doing 
unearthed  statues,  a  colonel  of  engineers  named  Don 
Rocco  Alcubierra  asked  permission  of  the  king  to 
make  excavations  in  the  vicinity.  The  king  consented 
and  placed  a  dozen  of  galley-slaves  at  the  colonel's 


THE  EXIIUMED  CITY.  23 

disposition.  Thus  it  was  that  by  a  lucky  chance  a 
military  engineer  discovered  the  city  that  we  are  about 
to  visit.  Still,  eight  years  more  had  to  roll  away  before 
any  one  suspected  that  it  was  Pompeii  which  they 
were  thus  exhuming.  Learned  folks  thought  they 
were  dealing  with  Stabise. 

Shall  I  relate  the  history  of  these  underground  re- 
searches, "  badly  conducted,  frequently  abandoned,  and 
resumed  in  obedience  to  the  same  capriciousness  that 
had.  led  to  their  suspension,"  as  they  were  ?  Such  are 
the  words  of  the  opinion  Barthelemy  expressed  when 
writing,  in  1755,  to  the  Count  de  Caylus.  Winkelmann, 
who  was  present  at  these  excavations  a  few  years  later, 
sharply  criticised  the  tardiness  of  the  galley-slaves  to 
whom  the  work  had  been  confided.  "At  this  rate," 
he  wrote,  "our  descendants  of  the  fourth  generation 
will  still  have  digging  to  do  among  these  ruins."  The 
illustrious  German  hardly  suspected  that  he  was  mak- 
ing so  accurate  a  prediction  as  it  has  turned  out  to  be. 
The  descendants  of  the  fourth  generation  are  our  con- 
temporaries, and  the  third  part  of  Pompeii  is  not  yet 
unearthed. 

The  Emperor  Joseph  II.  visited  the  excavations  on 


24  THE  WONDEES   OF  POMPEII. 

the  6th  of  April,  179  6,  and  complained  bitterly  to 
King  Ferdinand  IV.  of  the  slight  degree  of  zeal  and 
the  small  amomit  of  money  employed.  The  king 
promised  to  do  better,  but  did  not  keep  his  word.  He 
had  neither  intelligence  nor  activity  in  prosecuting 
this  immense  task,  excepting  while  the  French  occu- 
pation lasted.  At  that  time,  however,  the  government 
earned  out  the  idea  of  Francesco  La  Vega,  a  man  of 
sense  and  capacity,  and  purchased  all  the  ground  that 
covered  Pompeii.  Queen  Caroline,  the  sister  of  Bona- 
parte and  wife  of  Murat,  took  a  fancy  to  these 
excavations  and  pushed  them  vigorously,  often  going 
all  the  way  from  Naples  through  six  leagues  of  dust  to 
visit  them.  In  1813  there  were  exactly  four  hundred 
and  seventy-six  laborers  employed  at  Pompeii.  The 
Bourbons  returned  and  commenced  by  re-selling  the 
ground  that  had  been  purchased  under  Murat ;  then, 
little  by  little,  the  work  continued,  at  first  with  some 
activity,  then  fell  off  and  slackened  more  and  more 
until,  from  being  neglected,  they  were  altogether  aban- 
doned, and  were  resumed  only  once  in  a  while  in  the 
presence  of  crowned  heads.  On  these  occasions  they 
were  got  up  like  New  Year's  surprise  games :  every- 


THE   EXHUMED   CITY.  25 

ig  that  happened  to  be  at  hand  was  scattered  about 
layers  of  ashes  and  of  pumice-stone  and  care- 
fully covered  over.  Then,  upon  the  arrival  of  such- 
and-such  a  majesty,  or  this  or  that  highness,  the  magic 
wand  of  the  superintendent  or  inspector  of  the  works 
caused  all  these  treasures  to  spring  out  of  the  ground, 
I  could  name,  one  after  the  other,  the  august  person- 
ages who  were  deceived  in  this  manner,  beginning 
with  the  Kings  of  the  Two  Sicilies  and  of  Jerusalem. 

But  that  is  not  all.  Not  only  was  nothing  more 
discovered  at  Pompeii,  but  even  the  monuments  that 
had  been  found  were  not  preserved.  King  Ferdinand 
soon  discovered  that  the  25,000  francs  applied  to  the 
excavations  were  badly  employed ;  he  reduced  the  sum 
to  10,000,  and  that  amount  was  worn  down  on  the  way 
by  passing  through  so  many  hands.  Pompeii  fell  back, 
gradually  presenting  nothing  but  ruins  upon  ruins. 

Happily,  the  Italian  Government  established  by 
the  revolution  of  1860,  came  into  power  to  set  all 
these  acts  of  negligence  and  roguery  to  rights.  Sig- 
nor  Fiorelli,  who  is  all  intelligence  and  activity,  not 
to  mention  his  erudition,  which  numerous  writings 
prove,  was  appointed  inspector  of    the  excavations. 


26  THE   WONDERS   OF   I'OMPEH. 

Under  his  administration,  the  works  which  had  been 
vigorously  resumed  were  pushed  on  by  as  many  as 
seven  hundred  laborers  at  a  time,  and  they  dug  out 
in  the  lapse  of  three  years  more  treasures  than  had 
been  brought  to  light  in  the  thirty  that  preceded 
them.  Everything  has  been  reformed,  nay,  moralized, 
as  it  were,  in  the  dead  city;  the  visitor  pays  two 
francs  at  the  gate  and  no  longer  has  to  contend  with 
the  horde  of  guides,  doorkeepers,  rapscallions,  and 
beggars  who  formerly  plundered  him.  A  small  mu- 
seum, recently  established,  furnishes  the  active  in- 
quirer the  opportunity  of  examining  upon  the  spot 
the  curiosities  that  have  already  been  discovered ;  a 
library  containing  the  fine  works  of  Mazois,  of  Eaoul 
Kochette,  of  Gell,  of  Zalm,  of  Overbeck,  of  Breton, 
etc.,  on  Pompeii,  enables  the  student  to  consult 
them  in  Pompeii  itself ;  workshops  lately  opened  are 
continually  busy  in  restoring  cracked  walls,  marbles, 
and  bronzes,  and  one  may  there  surprise  the  artist 
Bramante,  the  most  ingenious  hand  at  repairing  an- 
tiquities in  the  world,  as  likewise  my  friend,  Padig- 
lione,  who,  with  admirable  patience  and  minute  fidel- 
ity, is  cutting  a  small  model  in  cork  of  the  ruins  that 


THE   EXIIUMED   CITY.  27 

ve  been  cleared,  which  is  scrupulously  exact.  In 
fine — and  this  is  the  main  point — the  excavations  are 
no  longer  carried  on  occasionally  only,  and  in  the 
presence  of  a  few  privileged  persons,  but  before  the 
iirst  comer  and  every  day,  unless  funds  have  run 
short. 

"I  have  frequently  been  present,"  wrote  a  half- 
Pompeian,  a  year  or  two  ago,  in  the  Revue  des  Deux 
Mbndes — "I  have  frequently  been  present  for  hours 
together,  seated  on  a  sand-bank  which  itself,  perhaps, 
ncealed  wonders,  and  witnessed  this  rude  yet  inter- 
esting toil,  from  which  I  could  not  withdraw  my 
gaze.  I  therefore  have  it  in  my  power  to  write 
understandingly.  I  do  not  relate  what  I  read,  but 
what  I  saw.     Three  systems,  to  my  knowledge,  have 

en  employed  in  these  excavations.  The  first,  in- 
augurated under  Charles  III.,  was  the  simplest.  It 
consisted  in  hollowing  out  the  soil,  in  extricating 
the  precious  objects  found,  and  then  in  re-filling 
the  orifice — an  excellent  method  of  forming  a  mu- 
seum by  destroying  Pompeii.  This  method  was  aban- 
doned so  soon  as  it  was  discovered  that  a  whole  city 
was  involved.     The  second  system,  which  was  gradu- 


28  THE   WONDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

ally  brought  to  perfection  in  the  last  century,  was 
earnestly  pursued  under  Murat.  The  work  was 
started  in  many  places  at  once,  and  the  laborers, 
advancing  one  after  the  other,  penetrating  and  cut- 
ting the  hill,  followed  the  line  of  the  streets,  which 
they  cleared  little  by  little  before  them.  In  fol- 
lowing the  streets  on  the  ground-level,  the  decliv- 
ity of  ashes  and  pumice-stone  which  obstructed  them 
was  attacked  below,  and  thence  resulted  many  re- 
grettable accidents.  The  whole  upper  part  of  the 
houses,  commencing  with  the  roofs,  fell  in  among 
the  rubbish,  along  with  a  thousand  fragile  articles, 
which  were  broken  and  lost  without  there  being 
any  means  of  determining  the  point  from  which 
they  had  been  hurled  down.  In  order  to  obviate 
•:his  inconvenience,  Signor  Fiorelli  has  started  a 
ohird  system.  He  does  not  follow  the  streets  by 
the  ground-level,  but  he  marks  them  out  over  the 
hillocks,  and  thus  traces  among  the  trees  and  cul- 
tivated grounds  wide  squares  indicating  the  sub- 
terranean islets.  'No  one  is  ignorant  of  the  fact 
chat  these  islets — isole,  insulce  in  the  modern  as  well 
as  in  the  ancient  language  of  Italy — indicate  blocks 


- 


THE   EXHUMED   CITY.  29 


buildings.  The  islet  traced.  Signer  Fiorelli  re- 
purchases the  land  which  had  been  sold  by  King 
Ferdinand  I.   and  gives  up  the  trees    found    upon 

"The  ground,  then,  being  bought  and  the  vegeta- 
tion removed,  work  begins.  The  earth  at  the  sum- 
mit of  the  hill  is  taken  off  and  carried  away  on 
a  railroad,  which  descends  from  the  middle  of  Pom- 
peii by  a  slope  that  saves  all  expense  of  machi- 
nery and  fuel,  to  a  considerable  distance  beyond 
the  amphitheatre  and  the  city.  In  this  way,  the 
most  serious  question  of  all,  to  wit,  that  of  clearing 
away  the  dirt,  is  solved.  Formerly,  the  ruins  were 
covered  in  with  it,  and  subsequently  it  was  heaped 
up  in  a  huge  hillock,  but  now  it  helps  to  construct 
the  very  railroad  that  carries  it  away,  and  will,  one 
day,  tip  it  into  the  sea. 

"  Nothing  can  present  a  livelier  scene  than  the  ex- 
cavation of  these  ruins.  Men  diligently  dig  away  at 
the  earth,  and  bevies  of  young  girls  run  to  and  fro 
without  cessation,  with  baskets  in  their  hands.     These 

*  The  money  accruing"  from  this  sale  is  applied  to  the  Pompeian 
library  mentioned  elsewhere. 
3* 


30  THE  WONDEKS  OF  POMPEII. 


are  sprightly  peasant  damsels  collected  from  the  adja- 
cent villages  most  of  them  accustomed  to  working  ii 
factories  that  have  closed  or  curtailed  operations  owinj 
to  the  invasion  of  English  tissues  and  the  rise  o: 
cotton.  No  one  would  have  dreamed  that  free  trade 
and  the  war  in  America  would  have  supplied  female 
hands  to  work  at  the  ruins  of  Pompeii.  But  all  thing, 
are  linked  together  now  in  this  great  world  of  ours 
vast  as  it  is.  These  girls  then  run  backward  anc 
forward,  filling  their  baskets  with  soil,  ashes,  an( 
lapillo,  hoisting  them  on  their  heads,  by  the  hel^ 
of  the  men,  with  a  single  quick,  sharp  motion,  anc 
thereupon  setting  off  again,  in  groups  that  incessaiitb 
replace  each  other,  toward  the  railway,  passing  and  re 
passing  their  returning  companions.  Yery  picturesque 
in  their  ragged  gowns  of  brilliant  colors,  they  walk 
swiftly  with  lengthy  strides,  their  long  skirts  defining 
the  movements  of  their  naked  limbs  and  fluttering  ii 
the  wind  behind  them,  while  their  arms,  with  ges- 
tures like  those  of  classic  urn-bearers,  sustain  the  heavy 
load  that  rests  upon  their  heads  without  making  them 
even  stoop.  All  this  is  not  out  of  keeping  with  the 
monuments  that  gradually  appear  above  the  surface 


THE   EXnCMED   CITY.  31 


the  rubbish  is  removed.  Did  not  the  sight  of  foreign 
visitors  here  and  there  disturb  the  harmony  of  the 
scene,  one  might  readily  ask  himself,  in  the  midst  of 
this  Virgilian  landscape,  amid  these  festooning  vines, 
in  full  view  of  the  smoking  Vesuvius,  and  beneath 
that  antique  sky,  whether  all  those  young  girls  who 
come  and  go  are  not  the  slaves  of  Pansa,  the  sedile,  or 
of  the  duumvir  Holconius." 

We  have  just  glanced  over  the  history  of  Pompeii 
before  and  after  its  destruction.  Let  us  now  enter  the 
city.  But  a  word  of  caution  before  we  start.  Do  not 
expect  to  find  houses  or  monuments  still  erect  and 
roofed  in  like  the  Pantheon  at  Pome  and  the  square 

i  building  at  Nismes,  or  you  will  be  sadly  disappointed. 

<  Rather  picture  to  yourself  a  small  city  of  low  build- 
ings and  narrow  streets  that  had  been  completely 
burned  down  in  a  single  night.  You  have  come  to 
look  at  it  on  the  day  after  the  conflagration.  The 
upper  stories  have  disappeared,  and  the  ceilings  have 
fallen  in.  Everything  that  was  of  wood,  planks,  and 
beamsj  is  in  ashes ;  all  is  uncovered,  and  no  roofs  are 
to  be  seen.  In  these  structures,  which  in  other  days 
were  either  private  dwellings  or  public  edifices,  you 


32  TIIE  WONDEKS  OF  POMPEII. 

now  can  everywhere  walk  under  the  open  sky.  Were 
a  shower  to  come  on,  you  would  not  know  where  to 
seek  shelter.  It  is  as  though  you  were  in  a  city  in 
progress  of  building,  with  only  the  first  stories  as  yet 
completed,  but  without  the  flooring  for  the  second. 
Here  is  a  house :  nothing  remains  of  it  but  the  lower 
walls,  with  nothing  resting  on  them.  At  a  distance 
you  would  suppose  it  to  be  a  collection  of  screens  set 
np  for  parlor  theatricals.  Here  is  a  public  square: 
you  will  now  see  in  it  only  bottom  platforms,  supports 
that  hold  up  nothing,  shafts  of  columns  without  gal- 
leries, pedestals  without  statues,  mute  blocks  of  stone, 
space  and  emptiness.  I  will  lead  you  into  more  than 
one  temple.  You  will  see  there  only  an  eminence  of 
masonry,  side  and  end  walls,  but  no  front,  no  portico. 
Where  is  art?  Where  is  the  presiding  deity  of  the 
place  ?  The  ruins  of  your  stable  would  not  be  more 
naked  a  thousand  years  hence.  Stones  on  all  sides, 
tufa,  bricks,  lava,  here  and  there  some  slabs  of  marble 
and  travertine,  then  traces  of  destruction — paintings 
defaced,  pavements  disjointed  and  full  of  gaps  and 
cracks — and  then  marks  of  spoliation,  for  all  the 
precious  objects  found  were  carried  off  to  the  museum 


Clearing  out  a  Narrow  Street  in  Pompeii. 


THE   EXHUMED   CITY.  33 

at  Naples,  and  I  can  show  you  now  nothing  but  the 
places  where  once  stood  the  Faun,  the  statue  of  Nar- 
cissus, the  mosaic  of  Arbelles  and  the  famous  blue 
vase.  Such  is  the  Pompeii  that  awaits  the  traveller  who 
comes  thither  expecting  to  find  another  Paris,  or,  at 
least,  ruins  arranged  in  the  Parisian  style,  like  the 
tower,  of  St.  Jacques,  for  instance. 

You  will  say,  perhaps,  good  reader,  that  I  dis- 
enchant you ;  on  the  contrary,  I  prevent  your,  dis- 
enchantment. Do  not  prepare  the  way  for  your 
own  disappointment  by  unreasonable  expectations  or 
by  ill-founded  notions ;  this  is  all  that  I  ask  of  your 
judgment.  Do  not  come  hither  to  look  for  the  relics 
of  Poman  grandeur.  Other  impressions  await  you  at 
Pompeii.  What  you  are  about  to  see  is  an  entire  city, 
or  at  all  events  the  third  of  an  ancient  city,  remote, 
detached  from  every  modern  town,  and  forming  in 
itself  something  isolated  and  complete  which  you  will 
find  nowhere  else.  Here  is  no  Capitol  rebuilt;  no  Pan- 
theon consecrated  now  to  the  God  of  Christianity ;  no 
Acropolis  surmounting  a  Danish  or  Bavarian  city;  no 
Maison  Carree  (as  at  Nisines)  transformed  to  a  gallery 
of  paintings  and  forming  one  of  the  adornments  of  a 


34  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

modern  Boulevard.  At  Pompeii  everything  is  antique 
and  eighteen  centuries  old;  first  the  sky,  then  the 
landscape,  the  seashore,  and  then  the  work  of  man, 
devastated  undoubtedly,  but  not  transformed,  by  time. 
The  streets  are  not  repaired ;  the  high  sidewalks  that 
border  them  have  not  been  lowered  for  the  pedestrians 
of  our  time,  and  we  promenade  upon  the  same  stones 
that  were  formerly  trodden  by  the  feet  of  Sericus 
the  merchant  and  Epaphras  the  slave.  As  we  enter 
these  narrow  streets  we  quit,  perforce,  the  year  w 
which  we  are  living  and  the  quarter  that  we  inhabit. 
Behold  us  in  a  moment  transported  to  another  age 
and  into  another  world.  Antiquity  invades  and 
absorbs  us  and,  were  it  but  for  an  hour,  we  are 
Romans.  That,  however,  is  not  all.  I  have  already 
repeatedly  said  that  Vesuvius  did  not  destroy  Pompeii 
— it  has  preserved  it. 

The  structures  that  have  been  exhumed  crumble 
away  in  the  air  in  a  few  months  —  more  than  they  had 
clone  beneath  the  ashes  in  eighteen  centuries.  "When 
first  disinterred  the  painted  walls  reappear  fresh  and 
glowing  as  though  their  coloring  were  but  of  yester- 
day.   Each  wall  thus  becomes,  as  it  were,  a  page  of 


THE   EXIIUMED   CITY.  35 

illustrated  archeology,  unveiling  to  us  some  point 
hitherto  unknown  of  the  manners,  customs,  private 
habits,  creeds  and  traditions ;  or,  to  sum  all  up  in  a 
word,  of  the  life  of  the  ancients. 

The  furniture  one  finds,  the  objects  of  art  or  the 
household  utensils,  reveal  to  us  the  mansion ;  there  is 
not  a  single  panel  which,  when  closely  examined,  does 
not  tell  us  something.  Such  and  such  a  pillar  has 
retained  the  inscription  scratched  upon  it  with  the 
point  of  his  knife  by  a  Pompeian  who  had  nothing  else 
to  do  ;  such  a  piece  of  wall  on  the  street  set  apart  for 
posters,  presents  in  huge  letters  the  announcement  of 
a  public  spectacle,  or  proclaims  the  candidature  of 
some  citizen  for  a  contested  office  of  the  state. 

I  say  nothing  of  the  skeletons,  whose  attitudes  relate,  u 
in  a  most  striking  manner,  the  horrors  of  the  catas-  1/ 
trophe  and  the  frantic  struggles  of  the  last  moment.  " 
In  fine,  for  any  one  who  has  the  faculty  of  observation, 
every  step  is  a  surprise,  a  discovery,  a  confession  won 
concerning  the  public  and  private  life  of  the  ancients. 
Although  at  first  sight  mute,  these  blocks  of  stone, 
when  interrogated,  soon  speak  and  confide  their  secrets 
to  science  or  to  the  imagination  that  catches  a  meaning 


36  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

with  half  a  word ;  they  tell,  little  by  little,  all  that  they 
know,  and  all  the  strange,  mysterious  things  that  took 
place  on  these  same  pavements,  under  this  same  sky, 
in  those  miraculous  times,  the  most  interesting  in 
history,  viz. :  the  eighth  century  of  Rome  and  the  first 
of  the  Christian  era. 


Library* 


XV 


THE    FORUM. 

Diomed's  Inn.  —The  Niche  of  Minerva.  —The  Appearance  and  The  Monuments 
of  the  Forum.  —The  Antique  Temple.  —The  Pagan  ex-Voto  Offerings.  — 
The  Merchants'  City  Exchange  and  the  Petty  Exchange.  — The  Pantheon, 
or  was  it  a  Temple,  a  Slaughter-house,  or  a  Tavern  ?  —The  Style  of  Cook- 
ing and  the  Form  of  Religion.  —The  Temple  of  Venus.  —The  Basilica.  — 
The  Inscriptions  of  Passers-by  upon  the  Walls.  —The  Forum  Rebuilt. 


As  you  alight  at  the  station,  in  the  first  place  break- 
fast at  the  jpopina  of  Diomed.  It  is  a  tavern  of  our  own 
day,  which  has  assumed  an  antique  title  to  please  trav- 
ellers. You  may  there  drink  Falernian  wine  manufac- 
tured by  Scala,  the  Neapolitan  chemist,  and,  should  you 
ask  for  some  jentaculum  in  the  Roman  style — aliquid 
scitamentorum,  glandionidum  suillam  taridum,  jper- 
nonidem,  sinciput  aut  omenta  jporcina,  aut  aliquid  ad 
ewn  modum — they  will  serve  you  a  beefsteak  and  po- 
tatoes. Your  strength  refreshed,  you  will  scale  the 
sloping  hillock  of  ashes  and  rubbish  that  conceals  the 
ruins  from  your  view ;  you  will  pay  your  two  francs 
at  the  office  and  you  will  pass  the  gate-keeper's  turn- 

*  (37) 


38  THE  WONDEES  OF  rOMPEH. 

stile,  astonished,  as  it  is,  to  find  itself  in  sncli  a  place. 
These  formalities  once  concluded  you  have  nothing 
more  that  is  modern  to  go  through  unless  it  be  the 
companionship  of  a  guide  in  military  uniform  who  es- 
corts you,  in  reality  to  watch  you  (especially  if  you  be- 
long to  the  country  of  Lord  Elgin),  but  not  to  mulct  you 
in  the  least.  Placards  in  all  the  known  languages  for- 
bid  you  to  offer  him  so  much  as  an  obolus.  You  make 
your  entree,  in  a  word,  into  the  antique  life,  and  you 
are  as  free  as  a  Pompeian. 

The  first  thing  one  sees  is  an  arcade  and  such  a  niche 
as  might  serve  for  an  image  of  the  Madonna ;  but  be 
reassured,  for  the  niche  contains  a  Minerva.  It  is  no- 
longer  the  superstition  of  our  own  time  that  strikes  our 
gaze.  Under  the  arcade  open  extensive  store-houses 
that  probably  served  as  a  place  of  deposit  for  mer- 
chandise. You  then  enter  an  ascending  paved  street, 
pass  by  the  temple  of  Venus  and  the  Basilica,  and  ar- 
rive at  the  Forum.     There,  one  should  pause. 

At  first  glance,  the  observer  distinguishes  nothing 
but  a  long  square  space  closed  at  the  further  extremity 
by  a  regular-shaped  mound  rising  between  two  arcades ; 
lateral  alleys  extend  lengthwise  on  the  right  and  the  left 


% 


Isibran 


;/> 


Of 


California 


■■i'-s  ■-.    'i?m 


THE   FORUM.  39 

between  shafts  of  columns  and  dilapidated  architec- 
tural work.  Here  and  there  some  compound  masses  of 
stone-work  indicate  altars  or  the  pedestals  of  statues 
no  longer  seen.  Vesuvius,  still  threatening,  smokes 
away  at  the  extremity  of  the  picture. 

Look  more  closely  and  you  will  perceive  that  the 
fluted  columns  are  of  Caserta  stone,  of  tufa,  or  of  brick, 
coated  with  stucco  and  raised  <£wo  steps  above  the  level 
of  the  square.  Under  the  lower  step  runs  the  kennel. 
These  columns  sustained  a  gallery  upon  which  one 
mounted  by  narrow  and  abrupt  steps  that  time  has 
spared.  This  upper  gallery  must  have  been  covered. 
The  women  walked  in  it.  A  second  story  of  columns, 
most  likely  interrupted  in  front  of  the  monuments, 
rested  upon  the  other  one.  Mazois  has  reconstructed 
this  colonnade  in  two  superior  orders — Doric  below 
and  Ionic  above  —  with  exquisite  elegance.  The 
pavement  of  the  square,  on  which  you  may  still  walk, 
was  of  travertine.  Thus  we  see  the  Forum  rising 
again,  as  it  were,  in  our  presence. 

Let  us  glance  at  the  ruins  that  surround  it.  That 
mound  at  the  other  end  was  the  foundation  of  a 
temple,  the  diminutive  size  of  which  strikes  the  new- 


40  THE  WONDERS   OF  POMl>EH. 

comer  at  first  sight.  Every  one  is  not  aware  that  the 
temple,  far  from  being  a  place  of  assemblage  for  de- 
vout multitudes,  was,  with  the  ancients,  in  reality,  but 
a  larger  niche  inclosing  the  statue  of  the  deity  to  be 
worshipped.  The  consecrated  building  received  only  a 
small  number  of  the  elect  after  they  had  been  befit- 
tingly  purified,  and  the  crowd  remained  outside.  It 
was  not  the  palace,  but  the  mere  cell  of  the  god.  This 
cell  (cello)  was,  at  first,  the  whole  temple,  and  was  just 
large  enough  to  hold  the  statue  and  the  altar.  By 
degrees  it  came  to  be  ornamented  with  a  front  portico, 
then  with  a  rear  portico,  and  then  with  side  colon- 
nades, thus  attaining  by  embellishment  after  embel- 
lishment the  rich  elegance  of  the  Madeleine  at  Paris. 
But  the  proportions  of  our  cathedrals  were  never 
adopted  by  the  ancients.  Thus,  Christianity  rarely 
appropriates  the  Greek  or  Roman  temples  for  its 
worship.  It  has  preferred  the  vast  basilicas,  the  royal 
name  of  which  assumes  a  religious  meaning. 

The  Romans  built  their  temples  in  this  wise :  The 
augur — that  is  to  say,  the  priest  who  read  the  future 
in  the  flight  of  birds — traced  in  the  sky  with  his  short 
staff  a  spacious  square,  which  he  then  marked  on  the 


THE  FOPwIIM.  41 

soil.  Stakes  were  at  once  fixed  along  the  four  lines, 
and  draperies  were  hung  between  the  stakes.  In  the 
midst  of  this  space,  the  area  or  inclosure  of  the 
temple,  the  augur  marked  out  a  cross — the  augural 
cross,  indicating  the  four  cardinal  points;  the  trans- 
Terse  lines  fixed  the  limits  of  the  cella;  the  point 
where  the  two  branches  met  was  the  place  for  the 
door,  and  the  first  stone  was  deposited  on  the  threshold. 
Numerous  lighted  lamps  illuminated  these  ceremo- 
nies, after  which  the  chief  priest,  the  pontifex  max- 
imus,  consecrated  the  area,  and  from  that  moment 
it  became  settled  and  immovable.  If  it  crumbled, 
it  must  be  rebuilt  on  the  same  spot,  and  the  least 
change  made,  even  should  it  be  to  enlarge  it,  would 
be  regarded  as  a  profanation.  Thus  had  the  dwell- 
ing of  the  god  that  rises  before  us  at  the  extremity  of 
the  Forum  been  consecrated. 

Like  most  of  the  Roman  temples,  this  edifice  is 
elevated  on  a  foundation  (the  jpodium),  and  turned 
toward  the  north.  One  ascends  to  it  by  a  flight 
of  steps  that  cuts  in  the  centre  a  platform  where, 
perhaps,  the  altar  stood.  Upon  the  podium  there 
remain  some  vestiges  of    the    twelve  columns    that 


4:2  THE   WONDEES   OF   EOMTEn. 

formed  the  front  portico  or  jpronaos.  Twelve  cob 
unins,  did  I  say? — three  on  each  side,  six  in  front; 
always  an  even  number  at  the  facades,  so  that  a 
central  column  may  not  mask  the  doorway  and  that 
the  temple  may  be  freely  entered  by  the  intercol- 
umnar  middle  space. 

To  the  right  and  the  left  of  the  steps  were  pedes- 
tals that  formerly  sustained  statues  probably  colos- 
sal. Behind  the  jpronaos  could  be  recognized  the 
place  where  the  cella  used  to  be.  Nothing  remains 
of  it  now  but  the  mosaic  pavement  and  the  walls. 
Traces  of  columns  enable  us  to  reconstruct  this  sanc- 
tuary richly.  We  can  there  raise — and  it  has  been 
done  on  paper — two  colonnades — the  first  one  of  the 
Ionic  order,  supporting  a  gallery;  the  second  of  the 
Corinthian  order,  sustainiDg  the  light  wooden  plat- 
form of  painted  wood  which  no  longer  exists.  The 
walls,  covered  with  stucco,  still  retain  pretty  decor- 
ative paintings.  Three  small  subterranean  chambers, 
of  very  solid  construction,  perhaps  contained  the 
treasury  and  archives  of  the  State,  or  something  else 
entirely    different — why  not  those  of    the    temple? 


iUM. 


THE   FORUM.  43 

those  times  the  Church  was  rich;  the  Saviour 
had  not  ordained  poverty  as  its  portion. 

What  deity's  house  is  it  that  we  are  visiting  now  % 
Jupiter's,  says  common  opinion,  upon  the  strength 
of  a  colossal  statue  of  which  fragments  have  been 
found  that  might  well  have  fitted  the  King  of  the 
Gods.  Others  think  it  the  temple  of  Yenus,  the 
Venus  Physica  (the  beautiful  in  nature,  say  aesthe- 
tic philosophers)  being  the  patroness  of  Pompeii. 
We  shall  frequently,  hereafter,  meet  with  the  name 
of  this  goddess.  Several  detached  limbs  in  stone 
and  in  bronze,  which  are  not  broken  at  the  extremity 
as  though  they  belonged  to  a  statue,  but  are  polished 
on  all  sides  and  cut  in  such  a  manner  as  to  admit 
of  being  suspended,  were  found  among  the  rums ; 
they  were  votive  offerings.  Italy,  in  becoming  Cath- 
olic, has  retained  these  Pagan  customs.  Besides 
her  supreme  God,  she  worships  a  host  of  demi-gods, 
to  whom  she  dedicates  her  towns  and  consecrates 
her  temples,  where  garlands  of  ex-voto  offerings  tes- 
tify to  the  intercession  of  the  priests  and  the  grati- 
tude of  the  true  believers. 

On  the  two  sides  of  the  temple  of  Jupiter — such 


44:  THE  WONDEES   OF   POMPEII. 

is  the  generally-accepted  name — rise  arcades,  as  I 
have  already  remarked.  The  one  on  the  left  is  a 
vaulted  entrance,  which,  being  too  low  and  standing 
too  far  forward,  does  not  correspond  with  the  other 
and  deranges,  one  cannot  exactly  make  out  why,  the 
symmetry  of  this  part  of  the  Forum.  The  other 
arcade  is  evidently  a  triumphal  portal.  Nothing  re- 
mains of  it  now  but  the  body  of  the  work  in  brick, 
some  niches  and  traces  of  pilasters;  but  it  is  easy 
to  replace  the  marbles  and  the  statues  which  must 
have  adorned  this  monument  in  rather  poor  taste. 
Such  was  the  extremity  of  the  Forum. 

Four  considerable  edifices  follow  each  other  on 
the  eastern  side  of  this  public  square.  These  are, 
going  from  south  to  north,  the  palace  of  Euma- 
chia,  the  temple  of  Mercury,  the  Senate  Chamber, 
and  the  Pantheon. 

What  is  the  Eumachia  palace?  An  inscription 
found  at  that  place  reads:  "Eumachia,  in  her  name 
and  in  the  name  of  her  son,  has  erected  to  Concord 
and  to  august  Piety,  a  Chalciclicum,  a  crypt  and  por- 
ticoes." 

What  is  a  Chalcidicum?     Long  and  grave  have 


THE   FORUM.  15 

been  the  discussions  on  this  subject  among  the 
savans.  They  have  agreed,  however,  on  one  point, 
that  it  should  be  a  species  of  structure  invented  at 
Chalcis,  a  city  of  Eubea. 

*  However  that  may  be,  this  much-despoiled  palace 
presents  a  vast  open  gallery,  which  was,  certainly, 
the  portico  mentioned  above.  Around  the  portico 
ran  a  closed  gallery  along  three  sides,  and  that  must 
have  been  the  crypt.  Upon  the  fourth  side  — that  is 
to  say,  before  the  entry  that  fronts  the  Forum — stood 
forth  a  sort  of  porch,  a  large  exterior  vestibule  :  that 
was  probably  the  Chalcidicum.  s    •■  *■  - 

The  edifice  is  curious.  Behind  the  vestibule  are 
two  walls,  not  parallel,  one  of  which  follows  the 
alignment  of  the  Forum,  and  the  other  that  of  the 
interior  portico.  The  space  between  this  double  wall 
is  utilized  and  some  shops  hide  themselves  in  its 
recesses.  Thus  the  irregularity  of  the  plan  is  not 
merely  corrected — it  is  turned  to  useful  account. 
The  ancients  were  shrewd  fellows.  This  portico 
rested  on  fifty-eight  columns,  surrounding  a  court- 
yard. In  the  court-yard,  a  large  movable  stone,  in 
good  preservation,  with  the  ring  that  served  to  lift 


46  TIIE   WONDEES   OF  POMPEII, 

it,  covered  a  cistern.  At  the  extremity  of  the  por 
tico,  in  a  hemicycle,  stood  a  headless  statue — perhaps 
the  Piety  or  Concord  to  which  the  entire  edifice  was 
dedicated.  Behind  the  hemicycle  a  sort  of  square 
niche  buried  itself  in  the  wall  between  two  doors, 
one  of  which,  painted  on  the  wall  for  the  sake  of 
symmetry,  is  a  useful  and  curious  document.  It  is 
separated  into  three  long  and  narrow  panels  and 
is  provided  with  a  ring  that  should  have  served  toj 
move  it.  Doors  are  nowhere  to  be  seen  now  in 
Pompeii,  because  they  were  of  wood,  and  conse- 
quently were  consumed  by  the  fire;  hence,  this 
painted  representation  has  filled  the  savants  with 
delight ;  they  now  know  that  the  ancients  shut  I 
themselves  in  at  home  by  processes  exactly  like  our 
own. 

Between  the  two  doors,  in  the  square  niche,  the 
statue  of  Eumachia,  or,  at  least,  a  moulded  model 
of  that  statue,  is  still  erect  upon  its .  pedestal.  It 
is  of  a  female  of  tall  stature,  who  looks  sad  and  ill. 
An  inscription  informs  us  that  the  statue  was  erected! 
in  her  honor  by  the  fullers.  These  artisans  formed 
quite  a  respectable  corporation  at  Pompeii,  and  wej 


THE   FORUM.  47 

shall  presently  visit  the  manufactory  where  they 
worked.  Everything  is  now  explained :  the  edifice 
of  Eumachia  must  have  been  the  Palace  of  Indus- 
try of  that  city  and  period.  This  is  the  Pompeian 
Merchants'  Exchange,  where  transactions  took  place 
in  the  portico,  and  in  winter,  in  the  crypt.  The  tri- 
bunal of  commerce  sat  in  the  hemicycle,  at  the  foot 
of  the  statue  of  Concord,  raised  there  to  appease 
quarrels  between  the  merchants.  In  the  court-yard, 
the  huge  blocks  of  stone  still  standing  were  the 
tables  on  which  their  goods  were  spread.  The  cis- 
tern and  the  large  vats  yielded  the  conveniences  to 
wash  them.  In  fine,  the  Chalcidicum  was  the  smal- 
ler Exchange,  and  the  niches  still  seen  there  must 
have  been  the  stands  of  the  auctioneers.  But  what 
was  there  in  common  between  this  market,  this  ful- 
lers' counter,  and  the  melancholy  priestess  ? 

Eeligion  at  that  period  entered  into  everything, 
even  into  trade  and  industry.  A  secret  door  put  the 
edifice  of  Eumachia  in  communication  with  the  adja- 
cent temple.  That  temple,  which  was  dedicated  to 
Mercury  —  why  to  Mercury  ?  —  or  to  Quirinus  —  why 
not  to  Mercury  ?— at  this  day  forms  a  small  museum  of 


4:8  THE  WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

precious  relics.  The  entrance  to  it  is  closed  with  a 
grating  through  which  a  sufficient  view  may  be  had  of 
the  bas-relief  on  the  altar,  representing  a  sacrifice.  A 
personage  whose  head  is  half-veiled  presides  at  the 
ceremony ;  behind  that  person  a  child  carries  the 
consecrated  water  in  a  vase,  and  the  victimariusy 
bearing  an  axe,  leads  the  bull  that  is  to  be  offered  up. 
Behind  the  sacrificial  party  are  some  flute-players. 
On  the  two  sides  of  the  altar  other  bas-reliefs  repre- 
sent the  instruments  that  were  used  at  the  sacrifices ; 
the  lituus,  or  curved  staff  of  the  augur ;  the  acerra, 
or  perfuming  censer ;  the  mantile,  or  consecrated  cloth 
that  —  let  us  simply  say,  the  napkin,  —  and,  finally,  the 
vases  peculiar  to  these  ceremonies,  the  jpatere^  the  ; 
simpulum,  and  the preferimlum. 

That  altar  is  the  only  curiosity  in  the  temple.  The 
remainder  is  not  worth  the  trouble  of  being  studied 
or  reconstructed.  The  mural  paintings  form  an 
adornment  of  questionable  taste.  A  rear  door  puts 
the  temple  in  communication  with  the  Senaoulum,  or 
Senate-house,  as  the  neighboring  structure  was  called ; 
but  the  Pompeian  Senators  being  no  more  than  de-  \ 
curions,  it  is   an  ambitious    title.     A  vestibule   that  : 


tiie  forum.  /v>  40 

comes  forward  as  far  as  tlie  colonnade  opthe  $ep^m ; 
then  a  spacious  saloon  or  hall ;  an  arch\a$>.the  end, 
with  a  broad  foundation  where  the  seats  of  the  decem- 
viri possibly  stood ;  then,  walls  built  of  rough  stones 
arranged  in  net- work  (opus  Teticulaturri)^  some  niches 
without  statues  —  such  is  all  that  remains.  But  with 
a  ceiling  of  wood  painted  in  bright  colors  (the  walls 
could  not  have  held  up  a  vaulted  roof),  and  com- 
pletely paved,  completely  sheathed  with  marble,  as 
some  flags  and  other  remnants  indicate,  this  hall  could 
not  have  been  without  some  richness  of  effect.  Those 
who  sat  there  were  but  the  magistrates  of  a  small  city ; 
but  behind  them  loomed  up  Borne,  whose  vast  shadow 
embraced  and  magnified  everything. 

At  length  we  have  before  us  the  Pantheon,  the 
strangest  and  the  least  easy  to  name  of  the  edifices  of 
Pompeii.  It  is  not  parallel  to  the  Forum,  but  its 
obliquity  was  adroitly  masked  by  shops  in  which  many 
pieces  of  coin  have  been  found.  Hence  the  conclu- 
sion that  these  were  tabernce  argentarice,  the  money- 
changers' offices,  and  I  cannot  prove  the  contrary. 
The  two  entrance  doors  are  separated  by  two  Co- 
rinthian columns,  between  which  is  hollowed  out  a 


50  THE  WONDERS  OF  POMPEII. 

niche  without  a  statue.  The  capitals  of  these  columns 
bear  Csesarean  eagles.  Could  this  Pantheon  have 
been  the  temple  of  Augustus?  Having  passed  the 
doors,  one  reaches  an  area,  in  which  extended,  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left,  a  spacious  portico  surrounding  a 
court,  in  the  midst  of  which  remain  twelve  pedestals 
that,  range  1  in  circular  order,  once,  perhaps,  sustained 
the  pillars  of  a  circular  temple  or  the  statues  of  twelve 
gods.  This,  then,  was  the  Pantheon.  However,  at 
the  extremity  of  the  edifice,  and  directly  opposite  to 
the  entrance,  three  apartments  open.  The  middle  one 
formed  a  chapel ;  three  statues  were  found  there  repre- 
senting Drusus  and  Livia,  the  wife  of  Augustus,  along 
with  an  arm  holding  a  globe,  and  belonging,  no  doubt, 
to  the  consecrated  statue  which  must  have  stood  upon 
the  pedestal  at  the  end,  a  statue  of  the  Emperor.  Then 
this  was  the  temple  of  Augustus.  The  apartment  to 
the  left  shows  a  niche  and  an  altar,  and  served,  per- 
haps, for  sacrifices;  the  room  to  the  right  offers  a  stone 
bench  arranged  in  the  shape  of  a  horse-shoe.  It  could 
not  be  one  of  those  triple  beds  {triclinia)  which  we 
shall  find  in  the  eating  saloons  of  the  private  houses ; 
for  the  slope  of  these  benches  would  have  forced  the 


TOE   FOEUM.  51 

leclining  guests  to  have  their  heads  turned  toward 
the  wall  or  their  feet  higher  than  their  heads. 
Moreover,  in  the  interior  of  this  bench  runs  a 
conduit  evidently  intended  to  afford  passage  to  cer- 
tain liquids,  perhaps  to  the  blood  of  animals  slaugh- 
tered in  the  place.  This,  therefore,  was  neither  a 
Pantheon  nor  a  temple  of  Augustus,  but  a  slaughter- 
house (macellwn.)  In  that  case,  the  eleven  apart- 
ments abutting  to  the  right  on  the  long  wall  of  the 
edifice  would  be  the  stalls.  But  these  rooms,  in 
which  the  regular  orifices  made  in  the  wall  were  to 
hold  the  beams  that  sustained  the  second  story,  were 
adorned  with  paintings  which  still  exist,  and  which 
must  have  been  quite  luxurious  for  those  poor  oxen. 
Let  us  interrogate  these  paintings  and  those  of  all 
these  w^alls ;  they  will  instruct  us,  perhaps,  with  refer- 
ence to  the  destination  of  the  building.  There  are 
mythological  and  epic  pieces  reproducing  certain 
sacred  subjects,  of  which  we  shall  speak  further  on. 
Others  show  us  winged  infants,  little  Cupids  weaving 
garlands,  of  which  the  ancients  were  so  fond ;  some  of 
the  bacchanalian  divinities,  celebrating  the  festival  of 
the  mills,  are  crowning  with  flowers  the  patient  ase 


52  THE   WONDERS   OF   rOltfPEII. 

who  is  turnrtig  the  wheel.  Flowers  on  all  sides  — 
that  was  the  fantasy  of  antique  times.  Flowers  at 
their  wild  banquets,  at  their  august  ceremonies, 
at  their  sacrifices,  and  at  their  festivals;  flowers  on 
the  necks  of  their  victims  and  their  guests,  and  on 
the  brows  of  their  women  and  their  gods.  But  the 
greatest  number  of  these  paintings  appear  destined 
for  banquetting-halls  ;  dead  nature  predominates  in 
them ;  you  see  nothing  but  pullets,  geese,  ducks,  part- 
ridges, fowls,  and  game  of  all  kinds,  fruits,  and  eggs, 
amphorse,  loaves  of  bread  and  cakes,  hams,  and  I 
know  not  what  all  else.  In  the  shops  attached  to  this 
palace  belong  all  sorts  of  precious  articles — vases, 
lamps,  statuettes,  jewels,  a  handsome  alabaster  cup ; 
besides,  there  have  been  found  Hvq  hundred  and  Mtv 
small  bottles,  without  counting  the  goblets,  and,  in 
vases  of  glass,  raisins,  figs,  chestnuts,  lentils,  and  near 
them  scales  and  bakers'  and  pastry-cooks'  moulds. 
Could  the  Pantheon,  then,  have  been  a  tavern,  a  free 
inn  (Jiosjyiiium)  where  strangers  were  received  under 
the  protection  of  the  gods  ?  In  that  case  the  supposed 
butcher-shop  must  have  been  a  sort  of  office,  and  the 
triclinium  a  dormitory.     However  that  may  be,  the 


THE   FOKUM.  53 

table  and  the  altar,  the  kitchen  and  religion,  elbow 
each  other  in  this  strange  palace.  Our  austerity  re- 
volts and  our  frivolity  is  amused  at  the  circumstance ; 
but  Catholics  of  the  south  are  not  at  all  surprised  at 
it.  Their  mode  of  worship  has  retained  something  of 
the  antique  gaiety.  For  the  common  people  of 
Naples,  Christmas  is  a  festival  of  eels,  Easter  a  revel 
of  casatelli;  they  eat  zejypole  to  honor  Saint  Joseph ; 
and  the  greatest  proof  of  affliction  that  can  be  given 
to  the  dying  Saviour  is  not  to  eat  meat.  Beneath  the 
sky  of  Italy  dogmas  may  change,  but  the  religion  will 
always  be  the  same  —  sensual  and  vivid,  impassioned 
and  prone  to  excess,  essentially  and  eternally  Pagan, 
above  all  adoring  woman,  Venus  or  Mary,  and  the 
bambino,  that  mystic  Cupid  whom  the  poets  called 
the  first  love.  Catholicism  and  Paganism,  theories 
and  mysteries ;  if  there  be  two  religions,  they  are  that 
of  the  south  and  that  of  the  north. 

You  have  just  explored  the  whole  eastern  part  of 
the  Forum.  Pass  now  in  front  of  the  temple  of  Jupi- 
ter and  reach  the  western  part.  In  descending  from 
north  to  south,  the  first  monument  that  strikes  your 
attention  is  a  rather  long  portico,  turned  on  the  east 


54  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

toward  the  Forum.  Different  observers  have  fancied 
that  they  discovered  in  it  ajpoedle,  a  museum,  a  divan, 
a  club,  a  granary  for  corn ;  and  all  these  opinions  are 
equally  good. 

Behind  the  poecile  open  small  chambers,  of  which 
some  are  vaulted.  Skeletons  were  found  in  them,  and 
the  inference  was  that  they  were  prisons.  Lower 
down  extends  along  the  Forum  the  lateral  wall  of  the 
temple  of  Venus.  In  this  wall  is  hollowed  a  small 
square  niche  in  which  there  rose,  at  about  a  yard  in 
height  from  the  soil,  a  sort  of  table  of  tufa,  indented 
with  regular  cavities,  which  are  ranged  in  the  order  of 
their  capacity;  these  were  the  public  measures.  An 
inscription  gives  us  the  names  of  the  duumvirs  who 
had  gauged  them  by  order  of  the  decurions.  As  M. 
Breton  has  well  remarked,  they  were  the  standards  of 
measurement.  Of  these  five  cavities,  the  two  smallest 
were  destined  for  liquids,  and  we  still  see  the  holes 
through  which  those  liquids  flowed  off  when  they  had 
been  measured.  The  table  of  tufa  has  been  taken  to 
the  museum,  and  in  its  place  has  been  substituted  1 
rough  imitation,  which  gives  a  sufficient  idea  of  this 
curious  monument. 


THE  FORUM.  55 

The  temple  of  Venus  is  entered  from  the  neighbor- 
ing street  which  we  have  already  traversed.  The  ruin 
is  a  fine  one  —  the  finest,  perhaps,  in  Pompeii ;  a  spa- 
cious inclosure,  or  peribolus,  framing  a  portico  of 
forty-eight  columns,  of  which  many  are  still  standing, 
and  the  portico  itself  surrounding  the  podium,  where 
rose  the  temple — properly  speaking,  the  house  of  the 
goddess.  In  front  of  the  entrance,  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps  that  ascend  to  the  podium,  rises  the  altar,  poorly 
calculated  for  living  sacrifices  and  seemingly  destined 
for  simple  offerings  of  fruit,  cakes,  and  incense,  which 
were  consecrated  to  Yenus.  Besides  the  form  of  the 
altar,  an  inscription  found  there  and  a  statue  of  the 
goddess,  whose  modest  attitude  recalls  the  masterpiece 
of  Florence,  sufficiently  authorize  the  name,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  more  exact  information,  that  has  been  given 
to  this  edifice.  Others,  however,  have  attributed  it  to 
the  worship  of  Bacchus ;  others  again  to  that  of  Diana, 
and  the  question  has  not  yet  been  settled  by  the  sa- 
vans;  but  Yenus  being  the  patroness  of  Pompeii, 
deserved  the  handsomest  temple  in  the  little  city. 

The  columns  of  the  peribolns  or  inclosure  bear  the 
traces  of  some  bungling  repairs  made  between  the 


56  THE  WONDERS  OF  POMPEDT. 

earthquake  of  63  and  the  eruption  of  79.  They  were 
Doric,  but  the  attempt  was  to  render  them  Corinthian, 
and,  to  this  end,  they  were  covered  with  stucco  and 
topped  with  capitals  that  are  not  becoming  to  them. 
Against  one  of  these  columns  still  leans  a  statue  in  the 
form  of  a  Hermes.  Around  the  court  is  cut  a  small 
kennel  to  carry  off  the  rain  water,  which  was  then 
caught  in  reservoirs.  The  wall  along  the  Forum  was 
gaily  decorated  with  handsome  paintings;  one  of 
these,  probably  on  wood,  was  burned  in  the  eruption, 
and  the  vacant  place  where  it  belonged  is  visible.  Be- 
hind the  temple  open  rooms  formerly  intended  for  the 
priests;  handsome  paintings  were  found  there,  also — 
among  them  a  Bacchus,  resting  his  elbow  on  the  shoul- 
der of  old  Silcnus,  who  is  playing  the  lyre.  Absorbed 
in  this  music,  he  forgets  the  wine  in  his  goblet,  and 
lets  it  fall  out  upon  a  panther  crouching  at  his  feet. 

We  now  have  only  to  visit  the  temple  itself,  the 
house  of  the  goddess.  The  steps  that  scaled  the  base- 
ment story  were  thirteen — an  odd  number — so  that  in 
ascending  the  first  step  with  the  right  foot,  the  level  of 
the  sanctuary  was  also  reached  with  the  right  foot. 
The  temple  was  gerlpterous,  that  is  to  say,  entirely 


THE   FORUM.  57 

surrounded  with  open  columns  with  Corinthian  capi 
tals.  The  portico  opened  broadly,  and  a  mosaic  of 
marbles,  pleasingly  adjusted,  formed  the  pavement  of 
the  cclla,  of  which  the  painted  wxalls  represented  sim- 
ple panels,  separated  here  and  there  by  plain  pilas- 
ters.    Our  Lady  of  Pompeii  dwelt  there. 

The  last  monument  of  the  Forum  on  the  south- 
west side  is  the  Basilica ;  and  the  street  by  which  we 
have  entered  separates  it  from  the  temple  of  Venus. 
The  construction  of  the  edifice  leaves  no  doubt 
as  to  its  destination,  which  is,  moreover,  confirmed 
by  the  word  Basilica  or  JBasilaca,  scratched  here 
and  there  by  loungers  with  the  points  of  their  knives, 
on  the  wall.  Basilica — derived  from  a  Greek  word 
which  signifies  "king-—  might  be  translated  with  suffi- 
cient exactness  by  royal  court.  At  Home,  these 
edifices  were  originally  mere  covered  market-places 
sheltered  from  the  rain  and  the  sun.  At  a  later 
period,  colonnades  divided  them  in  three,  sometimes 
even  into  five  naves,  and  the  simple  niche  which, 
intended  for  the  judges'  bench,  was  hollowed  out 
at  the  foot  of  its  monuments,  finally  developed  into 
a  vaulted  semicircle.     At  last,  the  early  Christiana 


58  THE  WONDERS  OF  POMPEII. 

fin  ding  themselves  crowded  in  the  old  temples,  chose 
the  high  courts  of  justice  to  therein  celebrate  the 
worship  of  the  new  God,  and  the  Roman  Basilica 
imposed  its  architecture  and  its  proportions  upon  the 
Catholic  Cathedral.  In  the  semicircle,  then,  where 
once  the  ancient  magistracy  held  its  justice  seat, 
arose  the  high  altar  and  the  consecrated  image  of 
the  crucified  Saviour. 

The  Basilica  of  Pompeii  presents  to  the  Forum 
six  pillars,  between  which  five  portals  slid  along 
grooves  which  are  still  visible.  A  vestibule,  or  sort 
of  chalcidicum  extends  between  these  five  entrances 
and  five  others,  indicated  by  two  columns  and  four 
pillars.  The  vestibule  once  crossed,  the  edifice  ap- 
pears in  its  truly  Roman  grandeur;  at  first  glance 
the  eye  reconstructs  the  broad  brick  columns,  regu- 
larly truncated  in  shape  (they  might  be  considered 
unfinished),  which  are  still  erect  on  their  bases  and 
which,  crowned  with  Ionic  volutes,  were  to  form 
a  monumental  portico  along  the  four  sides  of  this 
majestic  area  paved  with  marble.  Half  columns 
fixed  in  the  lateral  walls  supported  the  gallery ;  they 
joined  each  other  in  the  angles;   the  middle  space 


THE  FORUM.  50 

must  have  been  uncovered.  Fragments  of  statues 
and  even  of  mounted  figures  proclaim  the  magnifi- 
cence of  this  monument,  at  the  extremity  of. which 
there  rose,  at  the  height  of  some  six  feet  above  the 
soil,  a  tribune  adorned  with  half  a  dozen  Corin- 
thian columns  and  probably  destined  for  the  use 
of  the  duumvirs.  The  middle  columns  stood  more 
widely  apart  in  order  that  the  magistrates  might, 
from  their  seats,  command  a  view  of  the  entire  Bas- 
ilica. Under  this  tribune  was  concealed  a  myste- 
rious cellar  with  barred  windows.  Some  antiquaries 
affirm  that  there  was  the  place  where  prisoners  were 
tortured.  They  forget  that  in  Eome,  in  the  antique 
time,  cases  were  adjudged  publicly  before  the  free 
people. 

Some  of  the  walls  of  the  Basilica  were  covered  with 
graphites,  that  is  to  say,  with  inscriptions  scratched 
with  the  point  of  a  nail  or  of  a  knife  by  loungers 
on  the  way.  I  do  not  here  copy  the  thousand  and 
one  insignificant  inscriptions  which  I  find  in  my  ram- 
bles. They  would  teach  us  nothing  but  the  names 
of  the  Pompeian  magistrates  who  had  constructed 
or  reconstructed  this  or  that  monument  or  such-and- 


GO  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

such  a  portion  of  an  edifice  with  the  public  money. 

But  the  graphites  of  the  Basilica  merit  a  moment's 

attention.     Sometimes,   these   arc  .verses   of  Ovid  or 

of  Virgil   or  Propertius  (never  of  Horace,  singular 

to  say),  and  frequently  with  curious  variations.     Thus, 

for  example : 

"Quid  poto  durum  Saxso  aut  quid  mollius  uuda  ? 
Dura  tamen  molli  Saxsa  cavantur  aqua." 

(Ovid) 

Notice  the  s  in  the  saxo  and  the  quid  pote  instead 
of  quid  magis;  it  is  a  Greekism. 

Elsewhere  were  written  these  two  lines : 

1 '  Quisquis  amator  erit  Scytkige  licet  ambulet  oris : 
Nemo  adco  ut  feriat  Barbaras  esse  volet." 

Propertius  had  put  this  distich  in  an  elegy  in  which 
he  narrated  a  nocturnal  promenade  between  Pome 
and  Tibur.  Observe  the  word  Scythice  instead  of 
Sycthicis,  and  especially,  feriat,  which  is  the  true 
reading, — the  printed  texts  say  noccat.  Thus  an  ex- 
cellent correction  has  been  preserved  for  us  by  Vesu- 
vius. 


THE   FORUM.  61 

Here  are  other  lines,  the  origin  of  which  is  un- 
known : 

1 '  Scribenti  ini  dictat  Amor,  monstrat  que  Cupido 
Ah  peream,  sine  te  si  Deus  esse  velim !  " 

How  many  modern  poets  have  uttered  the  same 
exclamation !  They  little  dreamed  that  a  Pompeian, 
a  slave  no  doubt,  had,  eighteen  centuries  before  their 
time,  scratched  it  with  a  nail  upon  the  wall  of  a  bas- 
ilica. Here  is  a  sentence  that  mentions  gold.  It  has 
been  carried  out  by  the  English  poet,  Wordsworth : 

."  Minimum  malum  fit  contemnendo  maximum, 
Quod,  credemi,  non  contemnendo,  erit  minus." 

Let  us  copy  also  this  singular  truth  thrown  into 
rhyme  by  some  gourmand  who  had  counted  without 
h;s  host : 

' '  Quoi  perna  cocta  est,  si  convives  adponitur, 
Non  gustat  pemam,  lingit  ollam  aut  caccabum." 

This  quoi  is  for  cui;  the  caccabus  was  the  kettle  in 
which  the  fowl  was  cooked. 


62  THE   WONDEES   OF   POMPEII. 

Here  follows  some  wholesome  advice  for  tlie  health 
of  lovers : 

"  Quisquis  amat  calidis  non  debet  fontibus  uti: 
Nam  nemo  flammis  ustus  amare  x)otest." 

I  should  never  get  through  were  I  to  quote  them  all. 
But  how  many  short  phrases  there  are  that,  scratched 
here  and  there,  cause  this  old  monument  to  spring  up 
again,  by  revealing  the  thoughts  and  fancies  of  the 
loungers  and  passers-by  who  peopled  it  so  many  years 
ago. 

A  lover  had  written  this  : 

"  Nemo  est  bellus  nisi  qui  ainavit." 
A  friend : 

"Vale,  Messala,  fac  me  ames." 
A  superlative  wag,  but  incorrect  withal : 

"  Cosmus  nequitiac  est  magnussimac." 
A  learned  man,  or  a  philosopher : 

"  Non  est  cxsilium  ex  patria  sapientibus." 

A  complaining  suitor : 

' *  Sara  non  belle  f  acis. 
Solum  me  relinquis, 
Debilis    .... 


THE  FORUM.  G3 

A  wrangler  and  disputant  threatening  the  other 
party  with  a  law-suit : 

* '  Somius  Corneilio  (Cornelio)  jus  pendrc  (perendic  ?)  " 

A  sceptic  who  cherishes  no  illusions  as  to  the  mode 
of  administering  justice : 

"  Quod  pretimn  legi  ? " 

A  censor,  perhaps  a  Christian,  who  knew  the  words 
addressed  by  the  Jews  to  the  blind  man  who  was 
cured : 

"  Pyrrhus  Getae  conlegae  salutem. 
Moleste  fero  quod  audivi  te  mortuom  (sic). 
Itaque  vale." 

A  jovial  wine  bibber  : 

"  Suavis  vinari  sitit,  rogo  vas  valde  sitit."* 
A  wit: 

"Zetema  uiulier  ferebat  filium  simuleui  sui  nee  ineus  crat,  nee 
mi  simulat;    sed  velleni  esset  meus,  et  ego  volebam  ut  meus 


Tennis-players  scribble : 

"Amianthus,  Epaphra,  Tertius  ludant  cum  Hcdysio,  Iucun- 
dus  Nolanus  petat,  numeret  Citus  et  Stacus  Amianthus." 
*  For  8%tiat. 


64:  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

Wordsworth  remarks  that  these  two  names,  Tertius 
and  Epaphras,  arc  found  in  the  epistles  of  St.  Paul. 
Epaphras  (in  Latin,  Epaphra ;  the  suppressed  letter  s 
shows  that  this  Pompeian  was  merely  a  slave)  is  very 
often  named  on  the  walls  of  the  little  city ;  he  is  ac- 
cused, moreover,  of  being  beardless  or  destitute  of  hair 
(Epajphra  (jlaber  est),  and  of  knowing  nothing  about  ten- 
nis. {Ejxijphra  jpilicrepiis  non  cs).  This  inscription  was 
found  all  scratched  over,  probably  by  the  hand  of  Epa- 
phras himself,  who  had  his  own  feelings  of  pride  as  a 
fine  player. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  stones  of  Pompeii  are  full  of  reve- 
lations with  reference  to  its  people.  The  Basilica  is 
easy  to  reconstruct  and  provide  with  living  occupants. 
Yonder  duumviri,  up  between  the  Corinthian  columns ; 
in  front  of  them  the  accused  ;  here  the  crowd  ;  lovers 
confiding  their  secrets  to  the  wall ;  thinkers  scribbling 
their  maxims  on  them ;  wags  getting  off  their  witti- 
cisms in  the  same  style ;  the  slaves,  in  fine,  the  poor,  an- 
nouncing to  the  most  remote  posterity  that  they  had,  at 
least,  the  game  of  tennis  to  console  them  for  their 
abject  condition  !  Still  three  small  apartments  the  ex- 
tremity of  which  rounded  off  into  semicircles  (prob- 


* 


THE   FORUM.  65 


ably  inferior  tribunes  where  subordinate  magistrates, 
such  as  commissioners  or  justices  of  the  peace,  had 
their  seats) ;  then  the  school  of  Verna,  cruelly  dilapi- 
dated ;  finally  a  small  triumphal  arch  on  which  there 
stood,  perhaps,  a  quadriga,  or  four-yoked  chariot-team ; 
some  pedestals  of  statues  erected  to  illustrious  Pom- 
peians,  to  Pansa,  to  Sallust,  to  Marcus  Lucretius, 
Decidamius  Ruf  us ;  some  inscriptions  in  honor  of  this 
one  or  that  one,  of  the  great  .Romulus,  of  the  aged 
^Eneas, — when  all  these  have  been  seen,  or  glanced  at, 
at  least,  you  will  have  made  the  tour  of  the  Forum. 

You  now  know  what  the  public  exchange  was  in  a 
Roman  city ;  a  spacious  court  surrounded  by  the  most 
important  monuments  (three  temples,  the  bourse,  the 
tribunals,  the  prisons,  etc.),  inclosed  on  all  sides  (traces 
of  the  barred  gates  are  still  discernible  at  the  en- 
trances), adorned  with  statues,  triumphal  arches,  and 
colonnades;  a  centre  of  business  and  pleasure  ;  a  place 
for  sauntering  and  keeping  appointments ;  the  Corso,  the 
Boulevard  of  ancient  times,  or  in  other  words,  the  heart 
of  the  city.  Without  any  great  effort  of  the  imagina- 
tion, all  this  scene  revives  again  and  becomes  filled 

with  a  living,  variegated  throng, — the  portico  and  its 
6* 


60  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

two  stories  of  columns  along  the  edge  of  the  recon- 
structed monuments ;  women  crowd  the  upper  galle- 
ries ;  loiterers  drag  their  feet  along  the  pavement ;  the 
long  robes  gather  in  harmonious  folds;  busy  merchants 
hurry  to  the  Chalcidicum ;  the  statues  look  proudly 
down  from  their  re-peopled  pedestals;  the  noble  lan- 
guage of  the  Romans  resounds  on  all  sides  in  scanned;, 
sonorous  measure ;  and  the  temple  of  Jupiter,  seated  at 
the  end  of  the  vista,  as  on  a  throne,  and  richly  adorned 
with  Corinthian  elegance,  glitters  in  all  its  splendor 
in  the  broad  sunshine. 

An  air  of  pomp  and  grandeur  —  a  breath  of  Rome 
--has  swept  over  this  collection  of  public  edifices. 
Let  us  descend  from  these  heights  and  walk  about 
through  the  little  city. 


III. 

THE    STREET. 


The  Plan  of  Pompeii.  —  The  Princely  Names  of  the  Houses.  —  Appearance  op 
the  Streets,  Pavements,  Sidewalks,  etc.  — The  Shops  and  the  Signs.  — 
The  Perfumer,  the  Surgeon,  etc. —  An  ancient  Manufactory.  —  Bathing 
Establishments. — Wine-shops,  Disreputable  Resorts. — Hancing  Balco- 
nies, Fountains.  —  Public  Placards  :  Let  us  Nominate  Battur  !  Commit 
no  Nuisance  !  — Religion  on  the  Street. 


You  have  no  need  of  me  for  this  excursion.  Cast 
a  glance  at  the  plan,  and  you  will  be  able  to  iind  your 
own  way.  You  will  there  see  an  oval  inclosure,  a 
wall  pierced  with  several  entrances  designated  by  the 
names  of  the  roads  which  ran  from  them,  or  rather  of 
the  cities  at  which  these  roads  terminated  —  Hercula- 
neum,  Kola,  Stabia?,  etc.  Two-thirds  of  the  ogg  are 
still  immaculate ;  you  discover  a  black  spot  only  on  the 
extreme  right,  marking  out  the  Amphitheatre.  All 
this  white  space  shows  you  the  part  of  Pompeii  that 
has  not  yet  been  designated.  It  is  a  hillside  covered 
with  vineyards,  gardens,  and  orchards.  It  is  only  on 
the  left  that  you  will  find  the    lines  marking  the 


t>«  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

streets,  the  houses,  the  monuments,  and  the  public 
squares.  The  text  gives  us  the  fancied  names  at- 
tributed to  the  streets,  namely :  the  Street  of  Abun- 
dance, the  Street  of  Twelve  Gods,  the  Street  of 
Mercury,  the  Street  of  Fortune,  the  Street  of  For- 
tunata,  Modest  Street,  etc.  The  names  given  to 
the  houses  arc  still  more  arbitrary.  Most  of  them 
were  christened,  under  the  old  system,  by  the  august 
or  illustrious  personages  before  whom  they  were  dug 
out  for  the  first  time.  Thus,  we  have  at  Pompeii 
the  house  of  Francis  II.,  that  of  Championnet,  that 
of  Joseph  II. ;  those  of  the  Queen  of  England,  the 
King  of  Prussia,  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany;  that 
of  the  Emperor,  and  those  of  the  Empress  and  of 
the  Princes  of  Russia ;  that  of  Goethe,  of  the  Duchess 
de  Berry,  of  the  Duke  d'Aumale —  I  skip  them  by 
scores.  The  whole  Gotha  Almanac  might  there  be 
passed  in  review.  This  determined,  ramble  through 
the  streets  at  will,  without  troubling  yourself  about 
their  names,  as  these  change  often  at  the  caprice  of 
antiquaries  and  their  guides. 

The  narrowness  of  these  streets  will  surprise  you ; 
and  if  you  come  hither  to  look  for  a  Broadway,  you 


THE   STREET.  69 


had  better  have  remained  at  home.  What  we  call 
great  arteries  of  traffic  were  unknown  to  the  Pom- 
pcians,  who  cut  only  small  paved  paths  between  their 
houses  —  for  the  sake  of  health,  they  said.  We  en- 
tertain different  views  of  this  question  of  salubrity. 
The  greatest  width  of  a  Pompeian  street  is  seven 
yards,  and  there  are  some  which  are  comprised,  side- 
walks and  all,  within  a  space  of  two  yards  and  a 
half.  These  sidewalks  are  raised,  very  narrow,  and 
paved  very  variously,  according  to  the  wealth  or  the 
fancy  of  the  proprietors,  who  had  to  keep  them  in 
good  order.  Here  are  handsome  stone  flags  ;  further 
on  merely  the  soil  beaten  down  ;  in  front  of  the  next 
house  are  marble  slabs,  and  here  and  there  patches 
of  opus  siynhvwm,  a  sort  of  rudimentary  mosaic,  to 
which  wc  shall  refer  further  on.  These  sidewalks 
were  intersected  with  curbstones,  often  pierced  with 
holes  —  in  front  of  shops,  for  instance  — ■  perhaps  for 
tethering  the  cows  and  donkeys  of  the  peasants  who 
every  morning  brought  the  citizens  milk  or  baskets 
of  vegetables  to  their  own  doors.  Between  the  side- 
walks was  hollowed  out  the  street,  paved  with  coarse 
blocks  of  lava  which  time  has  not  worn  down.     When 


70  THE   WONDEES   OF   POMPEII. 

Pansa  went  to  the  dwelling  of  Paratus  his  sandals  trod 
the  same  stones  that  now  receive  the  impress  of  our 
boots.  On  rainy  days  this  street  must  have  been  the 
bed  of"  a  torrent,  as  the  alleys  and  by-ways  of  Naples 
are  still ;  hence,  one,  sometimes  three,  thicker  blocks 
were  placed  so  as  to  enable  foot  passengers  to  cross  with 
dry  feet.  These  small  fording  blocks  must  have  made 
it  difficult  for  vehicles  to  get  by  ;  hence,  the  ruts  that 
arc  still  found  traceable  on  the  pavement  are  the 
marks  of  wagons  drawn  slowly  by  oxen,  and  not  of 
those  light  chariots  which  romance-writers  launch 
forth  so  briskly  in  the  ancient  city.  Moreover,  it  has 
been  ascertained  that  the  Pompeians  went  afoot ; 
only  the  quality  had  themselves  drawn  about  in 
chariots  in  the  country.  Where  could  room  have 
been  found  for  stables  and  carriage-houses  in  those 
dwellings  scarcely  larger  than  your  hat  %  It  was 
in  the  suburbs  only,  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  that 
the  dimensions  of  the  residences  rendered  anything 
of  the  kind  possible.  Let  us,  then,  obliterate  these 
chariots  from  our  imagination,  if  we  wish  to  see  the 
streets  of  Pompeii  as  they  really  were. 


THE    STKEET.  71 

After  a  shower,  the  rain  water  descended,  little 
by  little,  into  the  gutters,  and  from  the  latter,  by 
holes  still  visible,  into  a  subterranean  conduit  that 
carried  it  outside  of  the  city.  One  of  these  conduits 
is  still  open  in  the  Street  of  Stabise,  not  far  from 
the  temple  of  Isis. 

As  to  the  general  aspect  of  these  ancient  thorough- 
fares, it  would  seem  dull  enough,  were  we  to  re- 
present the  scene  to  our  fancy  with  the  houses 
closed,  the  windows  gone,  the  dwellings  with  merely 
a  naked  wall  for  a  front,  and  receiving  air  and  light 
only  from  the  two  courts.  But  it  was  not  so,  as 
everything  goes  to  prove.  In  the  first  place,  the 
shops  looked  out  on  the  street  and  were,  indeed 
almost  entirely  open,  like  our  own,  offering  to  the 
gaze  of  the  passers-by  a  broad  counter,  leaving 
only  a  small  space  free  to  the  left  or  the  right  to 
let  the  vendors  pass  in  and  out.  In  these  counters, 
which  were  usually  covered  with  a  marble  slab, 
were  hollowed  the  cavities  wherein  the  grocers  and 
liquor-dealers  kept  their  eatables  and  drinkables. 
Behind  the  counters  and  along  the  walls  were  stone 
shelves,  upon  which   the   stock   was  put  away.     Fes- 


72  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

toons  of  edibles  hung  displayed  from  pillar  to  pillar; 
stuffs,  probably,  adorned  the  fronts,  and  the  custom- 
ers, who  made  their  purchases  from  the  sidewalk, 
must  have  everywhere  formed  noisy  and  very  ani- 
mated groups.  The  native  of  the  south  gesticulates 
a  great  deal,  likes  to  chaffer,  discusses  with  vehe- 
mence, and  speaks  loudly  and  quickly  with  a  glib 
tongue  and  a  sonorous  voice.  Just  take  a  look  at 
him  in  the  lower  quarters  of  ^Naples,  which,  in 
more  than  one  point  of  view,  recall  the  narrow 
streets  of  Pompeii. 

These  shops  are  now  dismantled.  Nothing  of  them 
remains  but  the  empty  counters,  and  here  and  there 
the  grooves  in  which  the  doors  slid  to  and  fro, 
These  doors  themselves  were  but  a  number  of  shut- 
ters fitting  into  each  other.  But  the  paintings  or 
carvings  which  still  exist  upon  some  side  pillars 
are  old  signs  that  inform  us  what  was  sold  on  the 
adjoining  counter.  Thus,  a  goat  in  terra  cotta  in- 
dicated a  milk-depot;  a  mill  turned  by  an  ass 
showed  where  there  was  a  miller's  establishment; 
two  men,  walking  one  ahead  of  the  other  and  each 
carrying  one  end  of  a  stick,  to  the  middle  of  which 


TIIE    STREET.     \  73 

an  amphora  is  suspended,  betray  the  neighborhood 
of  a  wine-merchant.  Upon  other  pillars  are  marked 
other  articles  not  so  readily  understood, — here  an 
anchor,  there  a  ship,  and  in  another  place  a  checker- 
board. Did  they  understand  the  game  of  Palame- 
des  at  Pompeii  ?  A  shop  near  the  Therm©,  or  pub- 
lic warm  baths,  is  adorned  on  its  front  with  a  rep- 
resentation of  a  gladiatorial  combat.  The  author 
of  the  painting  thought  something  of  his  work,  which 
he  protected  with  this  inscription:  "Abiat  (habeat) 
Venerem  Porn/peianam  iradam  (iratam)  qui  hoc 
IcBserit!  (May  lie  who  injures  this  picture  have  the 
wrath  of  the  Pompeian  Yenus  upon  him ! ) " 

Other  shops  have  had  their  story  written  by  the 
articles  that  they  contained  when  they  were  found. 
Thus,  when  there  were  discovered  in  a  suite  of 
rooms  opening  on  the  Street  of  Ilerculaneum,  cer- 
tain levers  one  of  which  ended  in  the  foot  of  a  pig, 
along  with  hammers,  pincers,  iron  rings,  a  wagon- 
spring,  the  felloe  of  a  wheel,  one  could  say  with- 
out being  too  bold  that  there  had  been  the  shop 
of  a  wagon-maker  or  blacksmith.  The  forge  occu- 
pied   only  one   apartment,  behind  which  opened    a 


74:  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

bath-room  and  a  store-room.  Not  far  from  there 
a  pottery  is  indicated  by  a  very  curious  oven,  the 
vault  of  which  is  formed  of  hollow  tubes  of  baked 
clay,  inserted  one  within  the  other.  Elsewhere  was 
discovered  the  shop  of  the  barber  who  washed, 
brushed,  shaved,  clipped,  combed  and  perfumed  the 
Pompeians  living  near  the  Forum.  The  benches  of 
masonry  are  still  seen  where  the  customers  sat.  As 
for  the  dealers  in  soap,  unguents,  and  essences,  they 
must  have  been  numerous;  their  products  supplied 
not  only  the  toilet  of  the  ladies,  but  the  religious 
or  funeral  ceremonies,  and  after  having  perfumed 
the  living,  they  embalmed  the  dead.  Besides  the 
shops  in  which  the  excavators  have  come  suddenly 
apon  a  stock  of  fatty  and  pasty  substances,  which, 
perhaps,  were  soaps,  we  might  mention  one,  on  the 
pillar'  of  which  three  paintings,  now  effaced,  repre- 
sented a  sacrificial  attendant  leading  a  bull  to  the 
altar,  four  men  bearing  an  enormous  chest  around 
which  were  suspended  several  vases;  then  a  body 
washed  and  anointed  for  embalming.  Do  you  under- 
stand   this    mournful-looking    sign?       The    unguent 


TI1E    STREET.  75 

dealer,  as  he  was  called,  thus  made  up  the  bod)' 
and  publicly  placarded  it. 

From  the  perfumery  man  to  the  chemist  is  but 
a  step.  The  shop  of  the  latter  tradesman  was  found — 
so  it  is  believed,  at  all  events  in  clearing  out  a  triple 
furnace  with  walled  boilers.  Two  pharmacies  or 
drug-stores,  one  in  the  Street  of  Ilerculaneum,  the 
other  fronting  the  Chalcidicum,  have  been  more 
exactly  designated  not  only  by  a  sign  on  which  there 
was  seen  a  serpent  (one  of  the  symbols  of  iEscula- 
pius)  eating  a  pineapple,  but  by  tablets,  pills,  jars,  and 
vials  containing  dried-up  liquids,  and  a  bronze  med- 
icine chest  divided  into  compartments  which  must 
have  contained  drugs.  A  groove  for  the  spatula  had 
been  ingeniously  constructed  in  this  curious  little 
piece  of  furniture. 

Not  far  from  the  apothecary  lived  the  doctor,  who 
was  an  apothecary  himself  and  a  surgeon  besides, 
and  it  was  in  his  place  that  were  discovered  the 
celebrated  instruments  of  surgery  which  are  at  the 
museum,  and  which  have  raised  such  stormy  debates 
between  Dr.  Purgon  and  Dr.  Pancratius.  The  first, 
being   a  doctor,  deemed  himself  competent  to  give 


7Q  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

an  account  of  these  instruments,  whereat  the  second, 
being  an  antiquary,  became  greatly  irritated,  seeing 
that  the  faculty,  in  his  opinion,  has  nothing  to  do 
with  archaeology.  However  that  may  be,  the  arti- 
cles are  at  the  museum,  and  everybody  can  look  at 
them.  There  is  a  forceps,  to  pull  teeth  with,  as  some 
affirm;  to  catch  and  compress  arteries,  as  others'  de- 
clare ;  there  is  a  spccillum  of  bronze,  a  probe  rounded 
in  the  form  of  an  S ;  there  are  lancets,  pincers,  spat- 
ulse,  hooks,  a  trident,  needles  of  all  kinds,  incision 
knives,  cauteries,  cupping-glasses— I  don't  know  what 
not  —  fully  three  hundred  different  articles,  at  all 
events.  This  rich  collection  proves  that  the  ancients 
were  quite  skilful  in  surgery  and  had  invented 
many  instruments  thought  to  be  modern.  This  is 
all  that  it  is  worth  our  while  to  know.  For  more 
ample  information,  examine  the  volume  entitled  Me- 
moires  de  V Academic  d?  Ilereulaneum. 

Other  shops  (that  of  the  color  merchant,  that  oi 
the  goldsmith,  the  sculptor's  atelier,  etc.)  have  re 
vealed  to  us  some  of  the  processes  of  the  ancient 
artists.  We  know,  for  instance,  that  those  of  Pom- 
peii employed  mineral  substances  almost  exclusively 


THE   STREET.  77 

in  the  preparation  of  their  colors ;  among  them 
chalk,  ochre,  cinnabar,  minium,  etc.  The  vegetable 
kingdom  furnished  them  nothing  but  lamp-black, 
and  the  animal  kingdom  their  purple.  The  colors 
mixed  with  rosin  have  occasioned  the  belief  that 
encaustic  was  the  process  used  by  the  ancients  in 
their  mural  paintings,  an  opinion  keenly  combatted 
by  other  hypotheses,  themselves  no  less  open  to  dis- 
cussion ;  into  this  debate  it  is  not  our  part  to  enter. 
However  the  case  may  be,  the  color  dealer's  family 
was  fearfully  decimated  by  the  eruption,  for  four- 
teen skeletons  were  found  in  his  shop. 

As  for  the  sculptor,  he  was  very  busy  at  the  time 
of  the  catastrophe;  quite  a  number  of  statues  were 
found  in  his  place  blocked  out  or  unfinished,  and 
with  them  were  instruments  of  his  profession,  such 
as  scissors,  punchers,  files,  etc.  All  of  these  are  at 
the  museum  in  Naples. 

There  were  artists,  then,  in  Pompeii,  but  above 
all,  there  were  artisans.  The  fullers  so  often  men- 
tioned by  the  inscriptions  must  have  been  the  most 
numerous ;  they  formed  a  respectable  corporation. 
Their   factory    has    been    discovered.      It  is    a    peri- 


78  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

style  surrounded  with  rooms,  some  of  which  served 
for  shops  and  others  for  dwellings.  A  painted  in- 
scription on  the  street  side  announces  that  the  dyers 
(offectores)  vote  for  Postliumus  Proculus.  These 
qffectores  were  those  who  retinted  woollen  goods. 
Those  who  did  the  first  dyeing  were  called  the  in- 
fectores.  Infectores  qui  alienum  colorem  in  lanam 
conficiunt,  offectores  qui  proprio  color i  novum  oji- 
ciunt.  In  the  workshop  there  were  four  large  ba- 
sins, one  above  the  other;  the  water  descended  from 
the  first  to  the  next  one  and  so  on  down  to  the 
last,  there  being  a  fifth  sunken  in  the  ground. 
Along  the  four  basins  ran  a  platform,  at  the  end 
of  which  were  ranged  six  or  seven  smaller  basins, 
or  vats,  in  which  the  stuffs  were  piled  up  and  fulled. 
At  the  other  extremity  of  the  court,  a  small  mar- 
ble reservoir  served,  probably,  as  a  washing  vat  for 
the  workmen.  But  the  most  curious  objects  among 
the  ruins  were  the  paintings,  now  transferred  to  the 
museum  at  Naples,  which  adorned  one  of  the  pil- 
lars of  the  court.  There  a  workman  could  be  very 
distinctly  seen  dressing,  with  a  sort  of  brush  or  card, 
a  piece  of  white  stuff  edged  with  red,  while  another 


TIIE   STREET.  79 

is  coming  toward  him,  bearing  on  his  head  one  of 
those  large  osier  cages  or  frames  on  which  the  girls 
of  that  region  still  spread  their  clothes  to  dry.  These 
cages  resemble  the  bell-shaned  steel  contrivances 
which  our  ladies  pass  under  their  skirts.  ...Thus,  in 
the  ^Neapolitan  dialect,  both  articles  are  called  dry- 
ing-horses (asciutta-jpanni).  Upon  the  drying-horse 
of  the  Pompeian  picture  perches  the  bird  of  Mi- 
nerva, the  protectress  of  the  fullers  and  the  god- 
dess of  labor.  To  the  left  of  the  workmen,  a  young 
girl  is  handing  some  stuffs  to  a  youthful,  richly- 
dressed  lady,  probably  a  customer,  seated  near  by. 
Another  painting  represents  workmen  dressing  and 
fulling  all  sorts  of  tissues,  with  their  hands  and  feet 
in  tubs  or  vats  exactly  like  the  small  basins 
which  we  saw  in  the  court.  A  third  painting  shows 
the  mistress  of  the  house  giving  orders  to  her  slaves ; 
and  the  fourth  represents  a  fulling  press  which  might 
be  deemed  modern,  so  greatly  does  it  resemble  those 
still  employed  in  our  day.  The  importance  of  this 
edifice,  now  so  stripped  and  dilapidated,  confirms 
what  writers  have  told  us  of  the  Pompeian  fullers 
and  their  once-celebrated  branch  of  trade. 


80  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

However,  most  of  the  sliop3  tlic  use  of  which  has  not 
been  precisely  designated,  were  places  where  provisions 
of  different  kinds  were  kept  and  sold.  The  oil  mer- 
chant in  the  street  leading  to  the  Oclcon  was  especially 
noticeable  among  them  all  for  the  beauty  of  his  coun- 
ter, which  was  covered  with  a  slab  of  cipoUino  and  gray  - 
marble,  encrusted,  on  the  outside,  with  a  round  slab  of 
porphyry  between  two  rosettes.  Eight  earthenware 
vases  still  containing  olives'"  and  coagulated  oil  were 
found  in  the  establishment  of  this  stylish  grocer. 

The  bathing  concerns  were  also  very  numerous. 
They  were  the  coffee-houses  of  the  ancient  day.  Hot 
drinks  were  sold  there,  boiled  and  perfumed  wine,  and 
all  sorts  of  mixtures,  which  must  have  been  detestable, 
but  for  which  the  ancients  seem  to  have  had  a  special 
fancy.  "  A  thousand  and  a  thousand  times  more 
respectable  than  the  wine-shops  of  our  day,  theso 
bathing-houses  of  ages  gone  by,  where  men  did  not 

*  These  olives  which,  when  found,  were  still  soft  and  pasty,  had 
a  rancid  smell  and  a  greasy  but  pungent  flavor.  The  kernels  were 
less  elongated  and  more  bulging  than  those  of  the  Neapolitan 
olives;  were  very  hard  and  still  contained  some  shreds  of  their 
pith.  In  a  word,  they  were  perfectly  preserved,  and  although 
eighteen  centuries  old,  as  they  were,  you  would  have  thought  they 
had  been  plucked  but  a  few  months  before. 


THE    STKEET.  81 

assemble  to  shamefully  squander  their  means  and 
their  existence  while  gorging  themselves  with  wine, 
but  where  they  came  together  to  amuse  themselves  in  a 
decent  manner,  and  to  drink  warm  water  without 
risk."  ....  Le  Sage,  who  wrote  the  foregoing  sen- 
tence, was  not  accurately  informed.  The  liquors  sold 
at  the  Pompeian  bathing-houses  were  very  strong,  and, 
in  more  than  one  place  where  the  points  of  the  ampho- 
rae rested,  they  have  left  yellow  marks  on  the  pave- 
ment. Vinegar  has  been  detected  in  most  of  these 
drinks.  In  the  tavern  of  Fortunata,  the  marble  of  the 
counter  is  still  stained  with  the  traces  of  the  ancient 
goblets. 

Bakeries  were  not  lacking  in  Pompeii.  The  most 
complete  one  is  in  the  Street  of  Herculaneum,  where 
it  fills  a  whole  house,  the  inner  court  of  which  is  occu- 
pied with  four  mills.  Nothing  could  be  more  crude 
and  elementary  than  those  mills.  Imagine  two  huge 
blocks  of  stone  representing  two  cones,  of  which  the 
upper  one  is  overset  upon  the  other,  giving  every  mill 
the  appearance  of  an  hour-glass.  The  lower  stone 
remained  motionless,  and  the  other  revolved  by  means 
of  an  apparatus  kept  in  motion  by  a  man  or  a  donkey. 


THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 


The  grain  was  crushed  between  the  two  stones  in  the 
old  patriarchal  style.  The  poor  ass  condemned  to  do 
this  work  must  have  been  a  very  patient  animal ;  but 
what  shall  we  say  of  the  slaves  often  called  in  to  fill 
his  place  ?  For  those  poor  wretches  it  was  usually  a 
punishment,  as  their  eyes  were  put  out  and  then  they 
were  sent  to  the  mill.  This  was  the  menace  held  over 
their  heads  when  they  misbehaved.  For  others  it  was  a 
very  simple  piece  of  service  which  more  than  one  man 
of  mind  performed  —  Plautus,  they  say,  and  Terence. 
To  some  again,  it  was,  at  a  later  period,  a  method  ofl 
paying  for  their  vices ;  when  the  millers  lacked  hands 
they  established  bathing-houses  around  their  mills,  and 
the  passers-by  who  were  caught  in  the  trap  had  to> 
work  the  machinery. 

Let  us  hasten  to  add  that  the  work  of  the  mill  which 
we  visited  was  not  performed  by  a  Christian,  as  they 
would  say  at  Naples,  but  by  a  mule,  whose  bones  were 
found  in  a  neighboring  room,  most  likely  a  stable,  the 
racks  and  troughs  of  which  were  elevated  about  two 
and  a  half  feet  above  the  floor.  In  a  closet  near  by, 
the  watering  trough  is  still  visible.  Then  again,  religion, 
which  everywhere  entered  into  the  ancient  manners 


THE   STREET.  83 

and  customs  of  Italy,  as  it  does  into  the  new,  reveals 
itself  in  the  paintings  of  the  jpistrinum  ;  we  there  see 
the  sacrifices  to  Fornax,  the  patroness  of  ovens  and 
the  saint  of  kitchens. 

But  let.  us  return  to  our  mills.  Mills  driven  by  the 
wind  were  unknown  to  the  ancients,  and  water-mills 
did  not  exist  in  Pompeii,  owing  to  the  lack  of  running 
water.  Hence  these  mills  put  in  motion  by  manual 
labor — the  old  system  employed  away  back  in  the  days 
of  Homer.  On  the  other  hand,  the  institution  of  com- 
plete baking  as  a  trade,  with  all  its  dependent  processes, 
did  not  date  so  far  back.  The  primitive  Romans  made 
their  bread  in  their  own  houses.  Rome  was  already 
nearly  five  hundred  years  old  when  the  first  bakers 
established  stationary  mills,  to  which  the  proprietors 
sent  their  grain,  as  they  still  do  in  the  JSTeapolitan  prov- 
inces; in  return  they  got  loaves  of  bread;  that  is  to 
say,  their  material  ground,  kneaded,  and  baked.  The 
Pompeian  establishment  that  we  visited  was  one  of 
these  complete  bakeries. 

We  could  still  recognize  the  troughs  that  served 
for  the  manipulation  of  the  bread,  and  the  oven,  the 
arch  of  which  is  intact,  with  the  cavity  that  retained 


84  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

the  ashes,  the  vase  for  water  to  besprinkle  the  crust  and 
make  it  shiny,  and,  finally,  the  triple-flued  pipe  that 
carried  off:  the  smoke  —  an  excellent  system  revealed 
by  the  Pompeian  excavations  and  successfully  imi- 
tated since  then.  The  bake-oven  opened  upon  two 
small  rooms  by  two  apertures.  The  loaves  went  in  af 
one  of  these  in  dough,  and  came  out  at  the  other,  baked. ' 
The  -whole  thing  is  in  such  a  perfect  state  of  preserva- 
tion that  one  might  be  tempted  to  employ  these  old. 
bricks,  that  have  not  been  used  for  eighteen  centuries, 
for  the  same  purpose.  The  very  loaves  have  survived. 
In  the  bakery  of  which  I  speak  several  were  found 
with  the  stamps  upon  them,  siligo  grani  (wheat  flour), 
or  e  cicera  (of  bean  flour)  —  a  wise  precaution  against 
the  bad  faith  of  the  dealers.  Still  more  recently,  in 
the  latest  excavations,  Signer  Fiorelli  came  across  an 
oven  so  hermetically  sealed  that  there  was  not  a  par- 
ticle of  ashes  in  it,  and  there  were  eighty-one  loaves, 
a  little  sad,  to  be  sure,  but  whole,  hard,  and  black, 
found  in  the  order  in  which  they  had  been  placed 
on  the  23d  of  November,  T9.  Enchanted  with  this 
windfall,  Fiorelli  himself  climbed  into  the  oven  and 
took  out  the  precious  relics  with   his     own  hands. 


THE   STREET.  85 


ost  of  the  loaves  weigh  about  a  pound ;  the  heaviest 
wclve  hundred  and  four  grains.  They  are  round, 
epressed  in  the  centre,  raised  on  the  edges,  and 
ivided  into  eight  lobes.  Loaves  are  still  made  in 
jSicily  exactly  like  them.  Professor  de  Luca  weighed 
and  analyzed  them  minutely,  and  gave  the  result  in 
a  letter  addressed  to  the  French  Academy  of  Sciences. 
Let  ns  now  imagine  all  these  salesrooms,  all  these 
shops,  open  and  stocked  with  goods,  and  then  the  dis- 
play, the  purchasers,  the  passers-by,  the  bustle  and  noise 
peculiar  to  the  south,  and  the  street  will  no  longer  seem 
so  dead.  Let  us  add  that  the  doors  of  the  houses  were 
closed  only  in  the  evening ;  the  promenaders  and 
loungers  could  then  peep,  as  they  went  along,  into 
every  alley,  and  make  merry  at  the  bright  adorn- 
ments of  the  atrium.  Nor  is  this  all.  The  upper 
stories,  although  now  crumbled  to  dust,  were  in 
communication  with  the  street.  Windows  opened 
discreetly,  which  must,  here  and  there,  have  been 
the  framework  of  some  brown  head  and  countenance 
anxious  to  see  and  to  be  seen.  The  latest  excava- 
tions have  revealed  the  existence  of  hanging  covered 

balconies,  long  exterior  corridors,  pierced  with  case- 
8 


86  THE   WONDEES    OF   POMPEn. 

ments,  frequently  depicted  in  the  paintings.  There 
the  fair  Pompeian  could  have  taken  her  station  in 
order  to  participate  in  the  life  outside.  The  good 
housewife  of  those  times,  like  her  counterpart  in  our 
day,  could  there  have  held  out  her  basket  to  the  street- 
merchant  who  went  wandering  about  with  his  portable 
shop ;  and  more  than  one  handsome  girl  may  at  the 
same  post  have  carried  her  "fingers  to  her  lips,  there 
to  cull  (the  ancient  custom)  the  kiss  that  she  flung 
to  the  young  Pompeian  concealed  down  yonder  in 
the  corner  of  the  wall.  Thus  re-peopled,  the  old- 
time  street,  narrow  as  it  is,  was  gayer  than  our  own 
thorcughf ares ;  and  the  brightly-painted  houses,  the 
variegated  walls,  the  monuments,  and  the  fountains, 
gave  vivid  animation  to  a  picture  too  dazzling  for  our 
gaze.  / 

These  fountains,  which  were  very  simple,  consisted 
of  large  square  basins  formed  of  five  stone  slabs,  one 
for  the  bottom  and  four  for  the  sides,  fastened  to- 
gether with  iron  braces.  The  water  fell  into  them 
from  fonts  more  or  less  ornamental  and  usually  repre- 
senting the  muzzle  of  some  animal  —  lions'  heads, 
masks,   an    eagle   holding   a  hare   in   his  beak,   with 


THE   STREET.  87 

the  stream  flowing  into  a  receptacle  from  the  hare's 
mouth.  One  of  these  fountains  is  surrounded  with  an 
iron  railing  to  prevent  passers-by  from  falling  into  it. 
Another  is  flanked  by  a  capacious  vaulted  reservoir 
(castellam)  and  closed  with  a  door.  Those  who  have 
seen  Home  know  how  important  the  ancients  con- 
sidered the  water  that  they  brought  from  a  distance 
by  means  of  the  enormous  aqueducts,  the  ruins  of 
which  still  mark  all  the  old  territories  of  the  empire. 
Water,  abundant  and  limpid,  ran  everywhere,  and  was 
never  deficient  in  the  Roman  cities.  Still  it  has  not 
been  discovered  how  the  supply  was  obtained  for 
Pompeii,  destitute  of  springs  as  that  city  was,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  elevated  above  the  river,  and  re- 
ceiving nothing  in  its  cisterns  but  the  rain-water  so 
scantily  shed  beneath  the  relentless  serenity  of  that 
southern  sky.  The  numberless  conduits  found,  of 
lead,  masonry,  and  earthenware,  and  above  all,  the 
spouting  fountains  that  leaped  and  sparkled  in  the 
courtyards  of  the  wealthy  houses,  have  led  us  to 
suppose  the  existence  of  an  aqueduct,  no  longer 
visible,  that  supplied  all  this  part  of  Campania  with 
water. 


88  THE    WONDERS    OF   POMPEII. 

Besides  these  fountains,  placards  and  posters  enli- 
vened the  streets  ;  the  walls  were  covered  with  them, 
and,  in  sundry  places,  whitewashed  patches  of  masonry 
served  for  the  announcements  so  lavishly  made  public. 
These  panels,  dedicated  entirely  to  the  poster  business, 
were  called  albums.  Anybody  and  everybody  had  the 
right  to  paint  thereon  in  delicate  and  slender  red 
letters  all  the  advertisements  which  now-a-days  we 
print  on  the  last,  and  even  on  many  other  pages  of 
our  newspapers.  Nothing  is  more  curious  than  these 
inscriptions,  which  disclose  to  us  all  the  subjects  enga- 
ging the  attention  of  the  little  city ;  not  only  its  excite- 
ments, but  its  language,  ancient  and  modern,  collegiate 
and  common  —  the  Oscan,  the  Greek,  the  Latin,  and  the 
local  dialect.  Were  we  learned,  or  anxious  to  appear 
so,  we  could,  with  the  works  of  the  really  erudite 
(Fiorelli,  Garrucci,  Mommsen,  etc.),  to  help  us,  have 
compiled  a  chapter  of  absolutely  appalling  science  in 
reference  to  the  epigraphic  monuments  of  Pompeii. 
We  could  demonstrate  by  what  gradations  the  Oscan 
language  —  that  of  the  Pompeian  autonomy — yielded 
little  by  little  to  the  Poman  language,  which  was  that 
of  the  unity  of  the  state ;  and  to  what  extent  Pompeii, 


THE    STREET.  89 

piiicli  never  was  a  Greek  city,  employed  the  sacred 
idiom  of  the  divine  Plato.  We  might  even  add  some 
observations  relative  to  the  accent  and  the  dialect  of 
the  Pompeians,  who  pronounced  Latin  as  the  Neapoli- 
tans pronounce  Tuscan  and  with  singularly  analogous 
alterations.  But  what  you  are  looking  for  here,  hur- 
ried reader,  is  not  erudition,  but  living  movement. 
Choose  then,  in  these  inscriptions,  those  that  teach  us 
something  relative  to  the  manners  and  customs  of  this 
dead  people  —  dead  and  buried,  but  afterward  ex- 
humed. 

The  most  of  these  announcements  are  but  the  proc- 
lamations of  candidates  for  office.  Pompeii  was  evi- 
dently swallowed  up  at  the  period  of  the  elections. 
Sometimes  it  is  an  elector,  sometimes  a  group  of  citi- 
zens, then  again  a  corporation  of  artisans  or  tradesmen, 
who  are  recommending  for  the  office  of  sedile  or 
duumvir  the  candidate  whom  they  prefer.  Thus, 
Paratus  nominates  Pansa,  Philippus  prefers  Caius 
Aprasius  Felix ;  Valentiims,  with  his  pupils,  chooses 
Sabinus  and  Eufus.  Sometimes  the  elector  is  in  a 
hurry;  he  asks  to  have  his  candidate  elected  quickly. 
The  fruiterers,  the  public  porters,  the  muleteers,  the 


90  THE   WONDEES   OF   POMPEII. 

salt-makers,  the  carpenters,  the  truckmen,  also  unite  to 
push  forward  the  sedile  who  has  their  confidence.  Fre- 
quently, in  order  to  give  more  weight  to  its  vote,  the  cor- 
poration declares  itself  unanimous.  Thus,  all  the  gold- 
smiths preferred  a  certain  Photinus  —  a  fishmonger, 
thinks  Overbeck  —  for  sedile.  Let  us  not  forget  the 
sleepers,  who  declare  for  Vatia,  By  the  way,  who  were 
these  friends  of  sleep?  Perhaps  they  were  citizens 
who  disliked  noise ;  perhaps,  too,  some  association  of 
nocturnal  revellers  thus  disguised  under  an  ironical 
and  reassuring  title.  Sometimes  the  candidate  is  rec- 
ommended by  a  eulogistic  epithet  indicated  by  seals, 
a  style  of  abbreviation  much  in  use  among  the  an- 
cients. The  person  recommended  is  always  a  good 
man,  a  man  of  probity,  an  excellent  citizen,  a  very 
moral  individual.  Sometimes  positive  wonders  arc 
promised  on  his  behalf.  Thus,  after  having  designated 
Julius  Poly  bins  for  the  sedileship,  an  elector  an- 
nounces that  he  will  bring  in  good  bread.  Electoral 
intrigue  went  still  further.  We  are  pretty  well  on 
in  that  respect,  but  I  think  that  the  ancients  were 
our  masters.  I  read  the  following  bare-faced  avowal 
on  a  wall:  Sabinum  cedilem,  Provide,  fac  et  ille  te 


THE    STREET.  91 


faciet.  (Make  Sabinus  sedile,  O  Proeulus,  and  lie 
may  make  thee  such ! )  Frank  and  cool  that,  it  strikes 
me! 

But  enough  of  elections;  there  is  no  lack  of  an- 
nouncements of  another  character.  Some  of  these 
give  us  the  programme  of  the  shows  in  the  amphithea- 
tre; such-and-such  a  troop  of  gladiators  will  fight  on 
such  a  day;  there  will  be  hunting  matches  and  awn- 
ings, as  well  as  sprinklings  of  perfumed  waters  to  re- 
fresh the  multitude  (venatio,  vela,  sjyarsiones).  Thirty 
couples  of  gladiators  will  ensanguine  the  arena. 

There  were,  likewise,  posters  announcing  apartments 
to  let. 

Some  of  these  inscriptions,  either  scratched  or 
painted,  were  witticisms  or  exclamations  from  face- 
tious passers-by.  One  ran  thus:  "Oppius  the  porter 
is  a  robber,  a  rogue ! "  Sometimes  there  were  amorous 
declarations :  "  Augea  loves  Arabienus."  Upon  a 
wall  in  the  Street  of  Mercury,  an  ivy  leaf,  forming  a 
heart,  contained  the  gentle  name  of  Psyche.  Else- 
where a  wag,  parodying  the  style  of  monumental 
inscriptions,  had  announced  that  under  the  consulate  of 
L.  Monius  Asprenas  and  A.  Plotius,  there  was  bom  to 


92  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 


him  the  foal  of  an  ass.  "A  wine  jar  has  been  lost  and 
he  who  brings  it  back  shall  have  such  a  reward  from 
Varius ;  but  he  who  will  bring  the  thief  shall  have 
twice  as  much." 

Again,  still  other  inscriptions  were  notifications 
to  the  public  in  reference  to  the  cleanliness  of  the 
streets,  and  recalling  in  terms  still  more  precise  the 
"Commit  no  Nuisance"  put  up  on  the  corners  of 
some  of  our  streets  with  similar  intent.  On  more 
than  one  wall  at  Pompeii  the  figures  of  serpents, 
very  well  painted,  sufficed  to  prevent  any  impropriety, 
for  the  serpent  was  a  sacred  symbol  in  ancient  Rome 
—  strange  mingling  of  religion  in  the  pettiest  details 
of  common  life!  Only  a  very  few  years  ago,  the 
Neapolitans  still  followed  the  example  of  their  an- 
cestors; they  protected  the  outside  walls  of  their 
dwellings  with  symbolical  paintings,  rudely  tracing, 
not  serpents,  but  crosses  on  them. 


IV. 

THE    SUBUEBS. 


The  Custom  House.— The  Fortifications  and  the  Gates.— The  Roman  High- 
ways.— The  Cemetery  of  Pompeii. —  Funerals:  the  Procession,  the  Fu- 
neral, Pyre,  the  Day  of  the  Dead.— The  Tombs  and  their  Inscrip- 
tions.—Perpetual  Leases. — Burial  of  the  Rich,  of  Animals,  and  of  the 
Poop.  -The  Villas  of  Diomed  and  Cicero. 


'  Ce  qu'on  trouve  aux  abords  d'une  grande  cite, 

Ce  sont  des  abattoirs,  des  murs,  des  cimitiercs  ; 
C'est  ainsi  qu'cn  entrant  dans  la  societe 
On  trouve  ses  esrouts." 


Alfeed  de  Musset  would  have  depicted  the  sub- 
urban quarters  of  Pompeii  exactly  in  these  lines, 
had  he  added  to  his  enumeration  the  wine-shops  and 
the  custom-house.  The  latter  establishment  was  not 
omitted  by  the  ancients,  and  could  not  be  forgotten 
in  our  diminutive  but  highly  commercial  city.  Thus, 
the  place  lias  been  discovered  where  the  collector 
awaited  the  passage  of  the  vehicles  that  came  in 
from  the  country  and  the  neighboring  villages.  Ab- 
solutely nothing  else  remains  to  be  seen  in  this  spa- 
cious  mosaic-paved    hall.       Scales,   steelyards,  and  a 


94  THE   WONDEES   OF   POMPEII. 

quantity  of  stone  or  metal  weights  were  found  there, 
marked  with  inscriptions  sometimes  quite  curious; 
such,  for  example,  as  the  following :  Erne  el  hctbbeMs, 
with  a  h  too  many,  a  redundancy  very  frequent  in 
the  Naples  dialect.  This  is  equivalent,  in  English, 
to:  Buy  and  you  will  have.  One  of  the  sets  of 
scales  bears  an  inscription  stating  that  it  had  been 
verified  or  authorized  at  the  Capitol  under  such  con- 
suls and  such  emperors  —  the  hand  of  Borne ! 

Besides  the  custom-house,  this  approach  to  the  city 
contained  abundance  of  stables,  coach-houses,  taverns, 
bath-houses,  low  drinking-shops,  and  other  disrepu- 
table concerns.  Even  the  dwellings  in  the  same 
quarter  have  a  suspicious  look.  You  follow  a  long 
street  and  you  have  before  you  the  gate  of  Ilercu- 
laneum  and  the  walls. 

These  walls  are  visible ;  they  still  hold  firm.  Un- 
questionably, they  could  not  resist  our  modern  can- 
non, for  if  the  ancients  built  better  than  we  do, 
we  destroy  better  than  they  did ;  this  is  one  thing 
that  must  in  justice  be  conceded  to  us.  Neverthe- 
less, we  cannot  but  admire  those  masses  of  jpeperino, 
the  points  of  which  ascend  obliquely  and  hold  to- 


THE   SUBURBS.  95 


gether  without  mortar.  Originally  as  ancient  as  the 
city,  these  ramparts  were  destroyed  to  some  extent 
by  Sylla  and  repaired  in  opus  incertum,  that  is  to 
eay,  in  small  stones  of  every  shape  and  of  various 
dimensions,  fitted  to  one  another  without  order  or 
[  regularity  in  the  layers,  as  though  they  had  been 
put  in  just  as  they  came.  The  old  structure  dated 
probably  from  the  time  of  Pompeian  autonomy — the 
Oscans  had  a  hand  in  them.  The  surrounding  wall, 
at  the  foot  of  which  there  were  no  ditches,  would 
have  formed  an  oval  line  of  nearly  two  miles  had 
it  not  been  interrupted,  on  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tains and  the  sea,  between  the  ports  of  Stabise  and 
of  Herculaneum.  These  ramparts  consisted  of  two 
walls — the  scarp  and  counterscarp, — between  which 
ran  a  terraced  platform ;  the  exterior  wall,  slightly 
sloping,  was  defended  by  embrasures  between  which 
the  archer  could  place  himself  in  safety,  in  an  angle 
of  the  stonework,  so  soon  as  he  had  shot  his  arrow. 
The  interior  wall  was  also  crested  with  battlements. 
The  curvilinear  rampart  did  not  present  projecting 
angles,  the  salients  of  which,  Vitruvius  tells  us,  could 
not  resist  the  repeated  blows  of  the  siege  machinery 


96  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

of  those  days.  It  was  intersected  by  nine  towers, 
of  three  vaulted  stories  each,  at  unequal  distances, 
accordingly  as  the  nature  of  the  ground  demanded 
greater  or  less  means  of  defence,  was  pierced  with  loop- 
holes and  was  not  very  solid.  Yitruvius  would  have  had 
them  rounded  and  of  cut  stone;  those  of  Pompeii 
are  of  quarried  stone,  and  in  small  rough  ashlars, 
stuck  together  with  mortar.  The  third  story  of  each 
tower  reached  to  the  platform  of  the  rampart,  with 
which  it  communicated  by  two'  doors. 

Notwithstanding  all  that  remains  of  them,  the  walls 
of  Pompeii  were  no  longer  of  service  at  the  time 
of  the  eruption.  Demolished  by  Sylla  and  then  by 
Augustus,  shattered  by  the  earthquake,  and  inter- 
rupted as  1  have  said,  they  left  the  city  open. 
They  must  have  served  for  a  public  promenade,  like 
the  bastions  of  Geneva. 

Eight  gates  opened  around  the  city  (perhaps  there 
was  a  ninth  that  has  now  disappeared,  opening  out 
upon  the  sea).  The  most  singular  of  all  of  them  is 
the  Nbla  gate,  the  construction  of  which  appears  to 
be  very  ancient.  We  there  come  across  those  fine 
cut  stones  that  reveal  the  handiwork  of   primitive 


mm 


lilllllliili! 


THE   SUBURBS.  07 


times.  A  head  consideraly  broken  and  defaced,  sur- 
mounting the  arcade,  was  accompanied  with  an  Oscan 
inscription,  which,  having  been  badly  read  by  a 
savant,  led  for  an  instant  to  the  belief  that  the  Cam- 
panians  of  the  sixth  century  before  Jesus  Christ 
worshipped  the  Egyptian  Isis.  The  learned  inter- 
preter had  read :  Isis  prqpheta  (I  translate  it  into 
Latin,  supposing  you  to  know  as  little  as  I  do  of  the 
Oscan  tongue).  The  inscription  really  ran,  idem 
probavit. 

It  is  worth  while  passing  through  the  gate  to  get 
a  look  at  the  angle  formed  by  the  ramparts  at  this 
one  point.  I  doubt  whether  the  city  was  ever  at- 
tacked on  that  side.  Before  reaching  the  gate  the 
assailants  would  have  had  to  wind  along  through  a 
narrow  gallery,  where  the  archers,  posted  on  the  walls 
and  armed  with  arrows  and  stones,  would  have 
crushed  them  all. 

The  llerculaneum  gate  is  less  ancient,  and  yet  more 
devastated  by  time  than  the  former  one.  The  arcade 
has  fallen  in,  and  it  requires  some  attention  to  rein- 
state it.  This  gate  formed  three  entrances.  The  two 
side  ways  were  probably  intended  for  pedestrians; 
9 


98  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

the  one  in  the  middle  was  closed  by  means  of  a  poll* 
cullis  sliding  in  a  groove,  still  visible,  but  covered  with 
stucco.  As  the  portcullis,  in  descending,  would  have 
thrown  down  this  coating,  we  must  infer  that  at  the- 
time  of  the  eruption  it  had  not  been  in  use  for  a  long 
while,  Pompeii  having  ceased  to  be  a  fortified  place. 
The  Ilerculaneum  gate  was  not  masked  inside,  so 


that  the  archers,  standing  upon  the  terraces  that  cov 
ered  the  side  entrances,  could  fire  upon  the  enemy 
even  after  the  portcullis  had  been  carried.  We  know 
that  one  of  the  stratagems  of  the  besieged  consisted 
in  allowing  the  enemy  to  push  in,  and  then  suddenly 
shutting  down  upon  them  the  formidable  cataracta 
suspended  by  iron  chains.  They  then  slaughtered  the 
poor  wretches  indiscriminately  and  covered  them- 
selves with  glory. 

Having  passed  the  gate,  we  find  ourselves  on  one 
of  those  fine  paved  roads  which,  starting  at  Rome  in 
all  directions,  have  everywhere  left  very  visible  traces, 
and  in  many  places  still  serve  for  traffic.  The  Greeks 
had  gracefulness,  the  Romans  grandeur.  Nothing 
shows  this  more  strikingly  than  their  magnificent 
highways  that  pierce  mountains,  fill  up  ravines,  level 


. 


7 


Library* 

Of  &V&**Zz 


THE    SUBURBS.  99 


the  plains,  cross  the  marshes,  bestride  rivers,  and  even 
valleys,  and  stretched  thus  from  the  Tiber  to  the 
Euphrates.  In  order  to  construct  them  they  first 
traced  two  parallel  furrows,  from  between  which  they 
removed  all  the  loose  earth,  which  they  replaced 
with  selected  materials,  strongly  packed,  pressed,  and 
pounded  down.  Upon  this  foundation  (the  pavimen- 
tum)  was  placed  a  layer  of  rough  stone  (statumen), 
then  a  filling-in  of  gravel  and  lime  (the  rudus),  and, 
finally,  a  third  bed  of  chalk,  brick,  lime,  clay,  and 
sand,  kneaded  and  pounded  in  together  into  a  solid 
crust.  This  wras  the  nucleus.  Last  of  all,  they  placed 
above  it  those  large  rough  blocks  of  lava  which  you 
will  find  everywhere  in  the  environs  of  Naples.  As 
before  remarked,  these  roads  have  served  for  twenty 
centuries,  and  they  are  good  yet. 

The  Herculaneum  road  formed  a  delightful  prome- 
nade at  the  gates  of  Pompeii ;  a  street  lined  with 
trees  and  villas,  like  the  Champs  Elysees  at  Paris,  and 
descending  from  the  city  to  the  country  between  two 
rows  of  jaunty  monuments  prettily-adorned,  niches, 
kiosks,  and  gay  pavilions,  from  which  the  xview  was 
admirable.     This    promenade   was    the    cemetery  of 


100  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

Pompeii.  Bnt  let  not  this  intimation  trouble  yoiiyi 
for  nothing  was  less  mournful  in  ancient  times  than  a 
cemetery.  The  ancients  were  not  fond  of  death; 
they  even  avoided  pronouncing  its  name,  and  resorted 
to  all  sorts  of  subterfuges  to  avoid  the  doleful  word. 
They  spoke  of  the  deceased  as  "  those  who  had  been," 
or  "  those  who  are  gone."  Very  demonstrative,  at  the 
first  moment  they  would  utter  loud  lamentations. 
Their  sorrow  thus  vented  its  first  paroxysms.  But  the 
first  explosion  over,  there  remained  none  of  that  cling- 
ing melancholy  or  serious  impression  that  continues  in 
our  Christian  countries.  The  natives  of  the  south  are 
epicureans  in  their  religious  belief,  as  in  their  habits 
of  life.  Their  cemeteries  were  spacious  avenues,  and 
children  played  jackstones  on  the  tombs. 

Would  you  like  to  hear  a  few  details  in  reference 
to  the  interments  of  the  ancients.  "  The  usage  was 
this,"  says  Claude  Guichard,  a  doctor  at  law,  in  his 
book  concerning  funereal  rites,  printed  at  Lyons,  in 
1581,  by  Jean  de  Tournes :  "  When  the  sick  person 
was  in  extreme  danger,  his  relatives  came  to  see  him, 
seated  themselves  on  his  bed,  and  kept  him  company 
until  the  death-rattle  came  on  and  his  features  began 


THE   SUBURBS.  101 


to  assume  the  dying  look.  Then  the  nearest  rela- 
tive among  them,  all  in  tears,  approached  the  pa- 
tient and  embraced  him  closely,  breast  against 
breast  and  face  against  face,  so  as  to  receive  his  soul, 
and  mouth  to  mouth,  catching  his  last  breath ;  which 
done,  he  pressed  together  the  lips  and  eyes  of  the  dead 
man,  arranging  them  decently,  so  that  the  persons 
present  might  not  see  the  eyes  of  the  deceased  open, 
for,  according  to  their  customs,  it  was  not  allowable 
to  the  living  to  see  the  eyes  of  the  dead.  .  .  .  Then 
the  room  was  opened  on  all  sides,  and  they  allowed 
all  persons  belonging  to  the  family  and  neighbor- 
hood, to  come  in,  who  chose.  Then,  three  or  four  of 
them  began  to  bewail  the  deceased  and  call  to  him 
repeatedly,  and,  perceiving  that  he  did  not  reply  one 
word,  they  went  out  and  told  of  the  death.  Then 
the  near  relatives  went  to  the  bedside  to  give  the  last 
kiss  to  the  deceased,  and  handed  him  over  to  the 
chambermaids  of  the  house,  if  he  was  a  person  of 
the  lower  class.  If  he  was  one  of  the  eminent  men 
and  heads  of  families,  he  committed  him  to  the  care 
of  people  authorized  to  perform  this  office,  to  wash, 
anoint,  and  dress  him,  in  accordance  with  the    cus* 


rv* 


102  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

torn  and  what  was  requisite  in  view  of  the  quality, 
greatness,  and  rank  of  the  personage." 

Now  there  were  at  Rome  several  ministers,  public 
servitors,  and  officials,  who  had  charge  of  all  that 
appertained  to  funerals,  such  as  the  libitinarii,  the 
designator vs,  and  the  like.  All  of  which  was  wisely 
instituted  by  Numa  Pompilius,  as  much  to  teach  the 
Romans  not  to  hold  things  relating  to  the  dead  in 
horror,  or  fly  from  them  as  contaminating  to  the 
person,  as  in  order  to  fix  in  their  memory  that  all  that 
has  had  a  beginning  in  birth  must  in  like  manner 
terminate  in  death,  birth  and  death  both  being 
under  the  control  and  power  of  one  and  the  same 
deity ;  for  they  deemed  that  Libitina  was  the  same 
as  Yenus,  the  goddess  of  procreation.  Then,  again, 
the  said  officers  had  under  their  orders  different 
classes  of  serfs  whom  they  called,  in  their  lan- 
guage, the  pollin-otores,  the  sandccpilarii,  the  us 
tores,  the  cadaver-urn  cicstodes,  intrusted  with  the 
care  of  anointing  the  dead,  carrying  them  to  the 
place  of  sepulture,  burning  them,  and  watching 
them.  "  After  the  joollinct ores  had  carefully  washed, 
anointed,  and  embalmed  the  body,  according  to  the 


THE    6UBUBBS.  103 

custom  regarding  it  and  the  expense  allowed,  tliey 
wrapped  it  in  a  white  linen  cloth,  after  the  manner 
of  the  Egyptians,  and  in  this  array  placed  it  upon  a 
bed  handsomely  prepared  as  though  for  the  most 
distinguished  member  of  the  household,  and  then, 
raised  in  front  of  the  latter  a  small  dresser  shaped 
like  an  altar,  upon  which  they  placed  the  usual  odors 
and  incense,  to  burn  along  with  tapers  and  lighted 
candles.  .  .  .  Then,  if  the  deceased  was  a  person 
of  note,  they  kept  the  body  thus  arranged  for  the 
space  of  seven  consecutive  days,  inside  the  house,  and, 
during  that  time,  the  near  relatives,  dressed  in  certain 
long  robes  or  very  loose  and  roomy  mantles  called 
ricinia,  along  with  the  chambermaids  and  other 
women  taken  thither  to  weep,  never  ceased  to  la- 
ment and  bewail,  renewing  their  distress  every  time 
any  notable  personage  entered  the  room ;  and  they 
thought  that  all  this  while  the  deceased  remained  on 
earth,  that  is  to  say,  kept  for  a  few  days  longer  at 
the  house,  while  they  were  hastening  their  prepara- 
tions for  the  pomp  and  magnificence  of  his  funeral. 
On  the  eighth  day,  so  as  to  assemble  the  relatives, 
associates,  and  friends  of  the  defunct  the  more  easily, 


104  THE   WONDERS    OF   POMPEII. 

inform  the  public  and  call  together  all  who  wished 
to  be  present,  the  procession^  which  they  called 
cxequice,  was  cried  aloud  and  proclaimed  with  the 
sound  of  the  trumpet  on  all  the  squares  and  chief 
places  of  the  city  by  the  crier*  of  the  dead,  in  the 
following  form :  c  Such  a  citizen  has  departed  from 
this  life,  and  let  all  who  wish  to  be  present  at  his 
obsequies  know  that  it  is  time ;  he  is  now  to  be  carried 
from  his  dwelling.' " 

Let  us  step  aside  now,  for  here  comes  a  funeral 
procession.  Who  is  the  deceased  ?  Probably  a  con- 
sular personage,  a  duumvir,  since  lictors  lead  the  line. 
Behind  them  come  the  flute-players,  the  mimes  and 
mountebanks,  the  trumpeters,  the  tambourine-players, 
and  the  weepers  (prcejiicm),  paid  for  uttering  cries, 
tearing  their  hair,  singing  notes  of  lamentation, 
extolling  the  dead  man,  mimicking  despair,  "  and 
teaching  the  chambermaids  how  to  best  express  their 
grief,  since  the  funeral  must  not  pass  without  weeping 
and  wailing."  All  this  makes  up  a  melancholy  but 
burlesque  din,  which  attracts  the  crowd  and  swells  the 
procession,  to  the  great  honor  of  the  defunct.  After- 
ward come  the  magistrates,  the  decurions  in  mourn- 


TILE    SUBURBS.  105 


ing  robes,  the  bier  ornamented  with  ivory.  The 
duumvir  Lucius  Labeo  (he  is  the  person  whom  they 
are  burying)  is  "  laid  out  at  full  length,  and  dressed  in 
white  shrouds  and  rich  coverings  of  purple,  his  head 
raised  slightly  and  surrounded  with  a  handsome  coro- 
net, if  he  merit  it."  Among  the  slaves  who  carry  the 
bier  walks  a  man  whose  head  is  covered  with  white 
wool,  "  or  with  a  cap,  in  sign  of  liberty."  That  is  the 
freedman  Menomachus,  who  has  grown  rich,  and  who 
is  conducting  the  mourning  for  his  master.  Then 
come  unoccupied  beds,  "couches  fitted  up  with  the 
same  draperies  as  that  on  which  reposes  the  body  of 
the  defunct"  (it  is  written  that  Sylla  had  six  thou- 
sand of  these  at  his  funeral),  then  the  long  line  of 
wax  images  of  ancestors  (thus  the  dead  of  old  interred 
the  newly  dead),  then  the  relatives,  clad  in  mourning, 
the  friends,  citizens,  and  townsfolk  generally  in 
crowds.  The  throng  is  all  the  greater  when  the 
deceased  is  the  more  honored.  Lastly,  other  trum- 
peters, and  other  pantomimists  and  tumblers,  dancing, 
grimacing,  gambolling,  and  mimicking  the  duumvir 
whom  they  are  helping  to  bury,  close  the  procession. 
This  interminable  multitude  passes  out  into  the  Street 


106  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

The  ustrinum,  or  room  in  which  they  are  going 
to  burn  the  body,  is  open.  You  are  acquainted  with 
this  Roman  custom.  According  to  some,  it  was  a 
means  of  hastening  the  extrication  of  the  soul  from 
the  body  and  its  liberation  from  the  bonds  of  matter, 
or  its  fusion  in  the  great  totality  of  things  ;  according 
to  others,  it  was  but  a  measure  in  behalf  of  public 
health.  However  that  may  be,  dead  bodies  might  be 
either  buried  or  burned,  provided  the  deposit  of  the 
corpse  or  the  ashes  were  made  outside  of  the  city.  A 
part  of  the  procession  enters  the  ustrinum.  Then 
they  are  going  to  burn  the  duumvir  Lucius  Labeo. 

The  funeral  pyre  is  made  of  firs,  vine  branches,  and 
other  wood  that  burns  easily.  The  near  relatives  and 
the  freedman  take  the  bier  and  place  it  conveniently 
on  the  pile,  and  then  the  man  who  closes  the  eyes 
of  the  dead  opens  them  again,  making  the  defunct 
look  up  toward  the  sky,  and  gives  him  the  last  kiss. 
Then  they  cover  the  pile  with  perfumes  and  essences, 
and  collect  about  it  all  the  articles  of  furniture, 
garments,  and  precious  objects  that  they  want  to 
burn.  The  trumpets  sound,  and  the  freedman,  taking 
a  torch  and  turning  away  his  eyes,  sets  fire  to  the 


THE    SUBURBS.  107 

framework.  Then  commence  the  sacrifices  to  the 
manes,  the  formalities,  the  pantomimic  action,  the 
howlings  of  the  mourners,  the  combats  of  the  gladi- 
ators "in  order  to  satisfy  the  ceremony  closely  ob- 
served by  them  which  required  that  human  blood 
should  be  shed  before  the  lighted  pile;"  this  was 
done  so  effectually  that  when  there  were  no  gladiators 
the  women  "tore  each  other's  hair,  scratched  their 
eyes  and  their  cheeks  with  their  nails,  heartily,  nntil 
the  blood  came,  thinking  in  this  manner  to  appease 
and  propitiate  the  infernal  deities,  whom  they  sup- 
pose to  be  angered  against  the  sonl  of  the  defunct, 
so  as  to  treat  it  roughly,  were  this  doleful  ceremony 
omitted  and  disdained."  .  .  .  The  body  burned, 
the  mother,  wife,  or  other  near  relative  of  the  dead, 
wrapped  and  clad  in  a  black  garment,  got  ready  to 
gather  up  the  relics  —  that  is  to  say,  the  bones  which 
remained  and  had  not  been  totally  consumed  by  the 
fire;  and,  before  doing  anything,  invoked  the  deity 
manes,  and  the  soul  of  the  dead  man,  beseeching  him 
to  take  this  devotion  in  good  part,  and  not  to  think  ill 
of  this  service.  Then,  after  having  washed  her  hands 
well,  and  having  extinguished  the  fire  in  the  brazier 


108  THE  WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

with  wine  or  with  milk,  she  began  to  pick  out  the  bones 
among  the  ashes  and  to  gather  them  into  her  bosom 
or  the  folds  of  her  robe.  The  children  also  gathered 
them,  and  so  did  the  heirs;  and  we  find  that  the 
priests  who  were  present  at  the  obsequies  could  help 
in  this.  But  if  it  was  some  very  great  lord,  the 
most  eminent  magistrates  of  the  city,  all  in  silk, 
ungirdled  and  barefooted,  and  their  hands  washed, 
as  we  have  said,  performed  this  office  themselves. 
Then  they  put  these  relics  in  urns  of  earthenware, 
or  glass,  or  stone,  or  metal ;  they  besprinkled  them  with 
oil  or  other  liquid  extracts ;  they  threw  into  the  urn, 
sometimes,  a  piece  of  coin,  which  sundry  antiquaries 
have  thought  was  the  obolus  of  Charon,  forgetting 
that  the  body,  being  burned,  no  longer  had  a  hand  to 
hold  it  out;  and,  finally,  the  urn  was  placed  in  a 
niche  or  on  a  bench  arranged  in  the  interior  of  the 
tomb.  On  the  ninth  day,  the  family  came  back  to 
banquet  near  the  defunct,  and  thrice  bade  him  adieu : 
Vale!  Vale!  Vale!  then  adding,  "May  the  earth  rest 
lightly  on  thee ! " 

Hereupon,    the    next    care    was    the     monument. 
That  of  the  duumvir  Labeo,  which  is  very  ugly,  in 


THE   SUBURBS.  109 

opus  incertum,  covered  with  stucco  and  adorned  with 
bas-reliefs  and  portraits  of  doubtful  taste,  was  built 
at  the  expense  of  his  freedinan,  Menomachus.  The 
ceremony  completed  and  vanity  satisfied,  the  dead 
was  forgotten ;  there  was  no  more  thought,  excepting 
for  the  ferales  and  lemur  ales,  celebrations  now  re- 
tained by  the  Catholics,  who  still  make  a  trip  to  the 
cemetery  on  the  Day  of  the  Dead.  The  Street  of  the 
Tombs,  saddened  for  a  moment,  resumed  its  look  of 
unconcern  and  gaiety,  and  children  once  more  played 
about  among  the  sepulchres. 

There  are  monuments  of  all  kinds  in  this  suburban 
avenue  of  Pompeii.  Many  of  them  are  simple  pillars 
in  the  form  of  Ilermes-heads.  There  is  one  in  quite 
good  preservation  that  was  closed  with  a  marble 
door;  the  interior,  pierced  with  one  window,  still 
had  in  a  niche  an  alabaster  vase  containing  some 
bones.  Another,  upon  a  plat  of  ground  donated  by 
the  city,  was  erected  by  a  priestess  of  Ceres  to  her 
husband,  II.  Alleius  Luceius  Sibella,  aedile,  duumvir, 
and  five  years'  prefect,  and  to  her  son,  a  decurion  of 
Pompeii,  deceased  at  the  age  of  seventeen.  A  decu- 
rion at  seventeen! — there  was  a  youth  who  made  his 
10 


110  THE   WONDERS   OF  POMPEII. 

way  rapidly.  Cicero  said  that  it  was  easier  to  be  a 
Senator  at  Rome  than  a  decnrion  at  Pompeii.  The 
tomb  is  handsome — very  elegant,  indeed  —  but  it  con- 
tained neither  urns,  nor  sarcophagi;  it  probably  was 
not  a  place  of  burial,  but  a  simple  cenotaph,  ai 
honorary  monument. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  the  handsomest  mauso- 
leum on  the  street,  that  of  the  augustal  Calventius 
a  marble  altar  gracefully  decorated  with  arabesques 
and  reliefs  (GEdipus  meditating,  Theseus  reposing 
and  a  young  girl  lighting  a  funeral  pile).  Upon  the 
tomb  are  still  carved  the  insignia  of  honor  belong- 
ing to  Calventius,  the  oaken  crowns,  the  lisellium  (a 
bench  with  seats  for  two),  the  stool,  and  the  three 
letters  O.  C.  S.  (ob  civum  servatum),  indicating  that 
to  the  illustrious  dead  was  due  the  safety  of  a  citizen 
of  Eome.  The  Street  of  the  Tombs,  it  will  be  seen, 
was  a  sort  of  Pantheon.  An  inscription  discoverec 
there  and  often  repeated  (that  which,  under  Charles 
III.,  was  the  first  that  revealed  the  existence  of  Pom- 
peii), informs  us  that,  upon  the  order  of  Yespasian, 
the  tribune  Suedius  Clemens  had  yielded  to  th< 
commune  of    Pompeii  the    places  occupied  by   the 


THE   SUBURBS.  Ill 

private  individuals,  which  meant  that  the  notables 
only,  authorized  by  the  decurions,  had  the  right  to 
sleep  their  last  slumber  in  this  triumphal  avenue, 
while  the  others  had  to  be  dispossessed.  Still  the 
hand  of  Rome ! 

Another  monument — the  one  attributed  to  Scaurus 
— was  very  curious,  owing  to  the  gladiatorial  scenes 
carved  on  it,  and  which,  according  to  custom,  repre- 
sented real  combats.  Each  figure  was  surmounted 
with  an  inscription  indicating  the  name  of  the  gladi- 
ator and  the  number  of  his  victories.  We  know, 
already,  that  these  sanguinary  games  formed  part 
of  the  funeral  ceremonies.  The  heirs  of  the  de- 
ceased made  the  show  for  the  gratification  of  the 
populace,  either  around  the  tombs  or  in  the  amphi- 
theatre, whither  we  shall  go  at  the  close  of  our  stroll, 
and  where  we  shall  describe  the  carvings  on  the 
pretended  monument  of  Scaurus. 

The  tomb  of  Nevoleia  Tyche',  much  too  highly 
decorated,  encrusted  with  arabesques  and  reliefs  repre- 
senting the  portrait  of  that  lady,  a  sacrifice,  a  ship  (a 
symbol  of  life,  say  the  sentimental  antiquaries),  is 
covered  with  a  curious  inscription,  which  I  translate 
literally. 


112  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

"  Ncvoleia  Tyche,  f  reedwoman  of  Julia,  for  herself 
and  for  Caius  Munatius  Faustus,  knight  and  major  of 
the  suburb,  to  whom  the  decurions,  with  the  consent 
of  the  people,  had  awarded  the  honor  of  the  bisellium. 
This  monument  has  been  offered  during  her  lifetime 
by  ISTevoleia  Tyche  to  her  freedmen  and  to  those  of 
C.  Munatius  Faustus." 

Assuredly,  after  reading  this  inscription,  we  cannot 
reproach  the  fair  Pompeians  with  concealing  their 
affections  from  the  public.  JSTevoleia  certainly  was 
not  the  wife  of  Munatius  ;  nevertheless,  she  loved  him 
well,  since  she  made  a  trysting  with  him  even  in  the 
tomb.  It  was  Queen  Caroline  Murat  who,  accom- 
panied by  Canova,  was  the  first  to  penetrate  to  the 
inside  of  this  dovecote  (January  14,  1813).  There 
were  opened  in  her  presence  several  glass  urns  with 
leaden  cases,  on  the  bottom  of  which  still  floated  some 
ashes  in  a  liquid  not  yet  dried  up,  a  mixture  of  water, 
wine,  and  oil.  Other  urns  contained  only  some  bones 
and  the  small  coin  which  has  been  taken  for  Charon's 
obolus. 

I  have  many  other  tombs  left  to  mention.  There 
are  three,  which  are  sarcophagi,  still  complete,  never 


TIIE    SUBURBS.  113 


even  before  Christianity  prohibited  the  use  of  the 
funeral  pyre.  Families  had  their  choice  between 
the  two  systems,  and  burned  neither  men  who  had 
been  struck  by  lightning  (they  thought  the  bodies  of 
such  to  be  incorruptible),  nor  new-born  infants  who 
had  not  yet  cut  their  teeth.  Thus  it  was  that  the 
remains  of  Diomed's  youngest  children  could  not  be 
found,  while  those  of  the  elder  ones  were  preserved 
in  a  glass  urn  contained  in  a  vase  of  lead. 

A  tomb  that  looks  like  a  sentry-box,  and  stands 
as  though  on  duty  in  front  of  the  Iierculaneum 
gate,  had,  during  the  eruption,  been  the  refuge  of  a 
soldier,  whose  skeleton  wTas  found  in  it.  Another 
strangely-decorated  monument  forms  a  covered  hemi- 
cycle  turned  toward  the  south,  fronting  the  sea,  as 
though  to  offer  a  shelter  for  the  fatigued  and  heated 
passers-by.  Another,  of  rounded  shape,  presents  inside 
a  vault  bestrewn  with  small  flowers  and  decorated 
with  bas-reliefs,  one  of  which  represents  a  female 
laying  a  fillet  on  the  bones  of  her  child.  Other 
monuments  are  adorned  with  garlands.  One  of  the 
least  curious  contained  the  magnificent  blue  and  white 

10* 


114  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POaEPEH. 

glass  vase  of  which  I  shall  have  to  speak  further 
That    of    the    priestess   Mamia,  ornamented  with  a 
superb  inscription,  forms  a  large  circular  bench  teri 
minating  in  a  lion's  claw.     Visitors  are  fond  of  resting! 
there  to  look  out  upon  the  landscape  and  the  sea.    Let] 
us  not  forget  the  funereal  triclinium,  a  simply-deco-j 
rated  dining-hall,  where  still  are  seen  three  beds  of  ma- 
sonry, used  at  the  banquets  given  in  honor  of  the  dead 
These  feasts,  at  which  nothing  was  eaten  but  shell-nsli 
(poor  fare,  remarks  Juvenal),  were  celebrated  nine 
days  after  the  death.    Hence  came  their  title,  novel 
dialia.     They  were  also  called  silicernia;    and  the 
guests   conversed   at   them  about    the    exploits    an< 
benevolent  deeds  of  the  man  who  had  ceased  to  Hi 
Polybius  boasts  greatly  of  these  last  honors  paid  to 
illustrious    citizens.     Thence    it    was,   he    says,   that 
Roman  greatness  took  its  rise. 

In  fact,  even  at  Pompeii,  in  this  humble  campo 
santo  of  the  little  city,  we  see  at  every  step  virtue 
rewarded  after  death  by  some  munificent  act  of  th( 
decurions.  Sometimes  it  is  a  perpetual  grant  (a  favor 
difficult  to  obtain),  indicated  by  the  following  letters 
H.  M.  II.  N.   S.   {hoc   monwnentwn   hceredes    non 


THE   SUBURBS.  115 

itur\  insuring  to  them  the  perpetual  possession  of 
ir  sepulchre,  winch  could  not  be  disposed  of  by  their 
iieirs.  Sometimes  the  space  conceded  was  indicated 
upon  the  tomb.  For  instance,  we  read  in  the  sep- 
ulchre of  the  family  of  Nistacidius :  "  A.  Nistacidius 
Ilelenus,  mayor  of  the  suburb  Augusto-Felix.  To 
Nistacidius  Januarius  and  to  Mesionia  Satulla.  Fif- 
teen feet  in  depth,  fifteen  feet  in  frontage." 

This  bench  of  the  priestess  Mamia  and  that  of 
Aulus  Yetius  (a  military  tribune  and  duumvir  dis- 
pensing justice)  were  in  like  manner  constructed,  with 
the  consent  of  the  people,  upon  the  lands  conceded 
by  the  decurions.  In  fine  —  and  this  is  the  most  sin- 
gular feature  —  animals  had  their  monuments.  This, 
at  least,  is  what  the  guides  will  tell  you,  as  they  point 
out  a  large  tomb  in  a  street  of  the  suburbs.  They  call 
it  the  scpolcro  del  bestiani,  because  the  skeletons  of 
bulls  were  found  in  it.  The  antiquaries  rebel  against 
this  opinion.  Some,  upon  the  strength  of  the  carved 
masks,  affirm  that  it  was  a  burial  place  for  actors; 
others,  observing  that  the  inclosure  walls  shut  in  quite 
a  spacious  temple,  intimate  that  it  was  a  cemetery  for 
priests.    For  my  part,  I  have  nothing  to  offer  against 


116  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

the  opinion  of  the  guides.     The  Egyptians,  whose  gods< 
Home  adopted,  interred  the  hull  Apis  magnificently. 
Animals  might,  therefore,  find  burial  in  the    noble- 
suburb  of  Pompeii.    As  for  the  lower  classes,  theyv 
slept  their  final  sleep  where  they  could ;  perhaps  im 
the    common    burial    pit   {commune    sepulcrum),  am 
ancient  barbarism  that  has  been  kept  up  until  our- 
times;  perhaps  in  those  public  burial  ranges  where 
one  could  purchase  a  simple  niche  (olla)  for  his  urn. 
These  niches  were  sometimes  humble   and  touching 
presents  interchanged  by  poor  people. 

And  in  this  street,  where  death  is  so  gay,  so  vain, 
so  richly  adorned,  where  the  monuments  arose  amid 
the  foliage  of  trees  perennially  green,  which  they  had 
endeavored,  but  without  success,  to  render  serious  and 
sombre,  where  the  mausolea  are  pavilions  and  dining- 
rooms,  in  which  the  inscriptions  recall  whole  narratives 
of  life  and  even  love  affairs,  there  stood  spacious  inns 
and  sumptuous  villas — for  instance,  those  of  Arrius 
Diomed  and  Cicero.  This  Arrius  Diomed  was  one 
of  the  freedmen  of  Julia,  and  the  mayor  of  the 
suburb.  A  rich  citizen,  but  with  a  bad  heart,  he  left 
his  wife  and  children  to  perish  in  his  cellar,  and  fled 


THE   SUBURBS.  117 


alone  with  one  slave  only,  and  all  the  silver  that  he  could 
carry  away.  He  perished  in  front  of  his  garden  gate. 
May  the  earth  press  heavily  upon  him ! 

His  villa,  which  consisted  of  three  stories,  not  placed 
one  above  the  other,  but  descending  in  terraces  from 
the  top  of  the  hill,  deserves  a  visit  or  two.  You  will 
there  see  a  pretty  court  surrounded  with  columns  and 
small  rooms,  one  of  which  —  of  an  elliptical  shape  and 
opening  on  a  garden,  and  lighted  by  the  evening 
twilight,  but  shielded  from  the  sun  by  windows  and 
by  curtains,  the  glass  panes  and  rings  of  winch  have 
been  found — is  the  pleasantest  nook  cleared  out  among 
these  ruins.  You  will  also  be  shown  the  baths,  the 
saloons,  the  bedchambers,  the  garden,  a  host  of  small 
apartments  brilliantly  decorated,  basins  of  marble,  and 
the  cellar  still  intact,  with  amphorse,  inside  of  which 
were  still  a  few  drops  of  wine  not  yet  dried  up, 
the  place  where  lay  the  poor  suffocated  family  — 
seventeen  skeletons  surprised  there  together  by  death. 
The  fine  ashes  that  stilled  them  having  hardened  with 
time,  retain  the  print  of  a  young  girl's  bosom.  It  was 
this  strange  mould,  which  is  now  kept  at  the  museum, 
that  inspired  the  Arria  Marcella  of  Theophile  Gau- 


118  TIIE   WONDEES   OF  POMTE1I. 

tier — that    author's   masterpiece,  perhaps,  but   at   all 
events  a  masterpiece. 

As  for  Cicero,  get  them  to  show  you  his  villa,  if  yod 
choose.  You  will  see  absolutely  nothing  there,  and  itj 
has  been  filled  up  again.  Fine  paintings  were  found! 
there  previously,  along  with  superb  mosaics  and  a  rich] 
collection  of  precious  articles ;  but  I  shall  not  copy  tlid 
inventory.  Was  it  really  the  house  of  Cicero  ?  "Wlioi 
can  say  ?  Antiquaries  will  have  it  so,  and  so  be  itJ 
then!  I  do  not  deny  that  Cicero  had  a  country 
property  at  Pompeii,  for  he  often  mentions  it  in  his 
letters  ;  but  where  it  was,  exactly,  no  one  can  demon- 
strate. He  could  have  descried  it  from  Baise  or  Mi- 
senum,  he  somewhere  writes,  had  he  possessed  longer 
vision ;  but  in  such  case  he  could  also  have  seen  the 
entire  side  of  Pompeii  that  looks  toward  the  sea. 
Therefore,  I  put  aside  these  useless  discussions  and 
resume  our  methodical  tour. 

I  have  shown  you  the  ancients  in  their  public  life ; 
at  the  Forum  and  in  the  street,  in  the  temples  and  in 
the  wine-shops,  on  the  public  promenade  and  in  the 
cemeteries.    I  shall  now  endeavor  to  come  upon  them 


THE   SUUURBS. 


119 


m  their  private  life,  and,  for  this  end,  to  peep  at  them 
first  in  a  place  which  was  a  sort  of  intermediate  point 
between  the  street  and  the  house.  I  mean  the  hot 
baths,  or  thermae. 


V. 

THE    THERMAE. 


The  Hot  Baths  at  Rome.  —The  Therms  of  Stable.  —A  Tilt  at  Sun  Dials. 
— A  Complete  Bath,  as  the  Ancients  Considered  It;  the  Apartments, 
the  Slaves,  the  Unguents,  the  Strigill^:. — A  Saying  of  the  Emperor 
Hadrian. —The  Baths  for  Women. — The  Reading  Room. —The  Roman 
Newspaper.  —  The  Heating  Apparatus. 


The  Romans  were  almost  amphibious.  They 
bathed  themselves  as  often  as  seven  times  per  diem ; 
and  young  people  of  style  passed  a  portion  of  the  day, 
and  often  a  part  of  the  night,  in  the  warm  baths. 
Hence  the  importance  which  these  establishments 
assumed  in  ancient  times.  There  were  eight  hundred 
and  fifty-six  public  baths  at  Rome,  in  the  reign  of 
Augustus.  Three  thousand  bathers  could  assemble 
in  the  thermae  of  Caracalla,  which  had  sixteen  hun- 
dred seats  of  marble  or  of  porphyry.  The  thermae 
of   Septimius  Severus,  situated    in    a  park,   covered 

a  space  of  one  hundred  thousand  square  feet,  and 

(120) 


THE   THERMAE.  121 

Iomprised  rooms  of  all  kinds:  gymnasia,  academic 
alls  where  poets  read  their  verses  aloud,  arenas  for 
ladiators,  and  even  theatres.  Let  us  not  forget  that 
e  Bull  and  the  Farnese  Hercules,  now  so  greatly 
mired  at  Naples,  and  the  masterpieces  of  the 
atican,  the  Torso  at  the  Belvidere,  and  the  Laocoon 
ere  found  at  the  baths. 

These  immense  palatial  structures  were  accessible  to 
erybody.  The  price  of  admission  wTas  a  quadrans^ 
d  the  quadrans  was  the  fourth  part  of  an  as;  the 
tter,  in  Cicero's  time,  was  worth  about  one  cent  and 
o  mills.  Even  this  charge  was  afterward  abolished. 
t  daybreak,  the  sound  of  a  bell  announced  the 
ening  of  the  baths.  The  rich  went  there  particu- 
larly between  the  middle  of  the  day  and  sunset ;  the 
dissipated  went  after  supper,  in  defiance  of  the  pre- 
scribed rules  of  health.  I  learn  from  Juvenal,  how- 
ever, that  they  sometimes  died  of  it.  Nevertheless, 
Nero  remained  at  table  from  noon  until  midnight, 
after  which  he  took  warm  baths  in  winter  and  snow 
baths  in  summer. 

In  the  earlier  times  of  the  republic  there  was  a 
difference  of  hours  for  the  two  sexes.     The  thermos 

11 


122  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

were  monopolized  alternately  by  the  men  and  the 
women,  who  never  met  there.  Modesty  was  carried 
so  far  that  the  son  would  not  bathe  with  his  father, 
nor  even  with  his  father-in-law.  At  a  later  period, 
men  and  women,  children  and  old  folks,  bathed  pell- 
mell  together  at  the  public  baths,  until  the  Emperor 
Hadrian,  recognizing  the  abuse,  suppressed  it. 

Pompeii,  or  at  least  that  portion  of  Pompeii  which 
has  been  exhumed,  had  two  public  bathing  establish- 
ments. The  most  important  of  these,  namely,  the 
Stabian  baths,  was  very  spacious,  and  contained  all 
sorts  of  apartments,  side  rooms,  round  and  square 
basins,  small  ovens,  galleries,  porticoes,  etc.,  without 
counting  a  space  for  bodily  exercises  (jpalcestra) 
where  the  young  Pompeians  went  through  their  gym- 
nastics. This,  it  will  be  seen,  was  a  complete  water- 
cure  establishment. 

The  most  curious  thing  dug  up  out  of  these  ruins 
is  a  Berosian  sun-dial  marked  with  an  Oscan  inscrip- 
tion announcing  that  N".  Atinius,  son  of  Marius  the 
quaestor,  had  caused  it  to  be  executed,  by  order  of 
the  decurions,  with  the  funds  resulting  from  the 
public  fines.     Sun-dials  were  no  rarity  at  Pompeii. 


THE   TIIERMiE.  12S 

liey  existed  there  in  every  shape  and  of  every  price ; 

long  them  was  one  elevated  upon  an  Ionic  column  of 

ijpoUino  marble.     These  primitive   time-pieces  were 

frequently  offered  by  the  Roman  magistrates  for  the 

dornment   of    the   monuments,   a  fact  that   greatly 

displeased  a  certain  parasite  whom  Plautus  describes : 

"May  the  gods  exterminate  the  man  who  first  in- 
vented the  hours ! "  he  exclaims,  "  who  first  placed  a 
sun-dial  in  this  city !  the  traitor  who  has  cut  the  day 
in  pieces  for  my  ill-luck  !  In  my  childhood  there  was 
no  other  time-piece  than  the  stomach ;  and  that  is  the 
best  of  them  all,  the  most  accurate  in  giving  notice, 
unless,  indeed,  there  be  nothing  to  eat.  But,  nowa- 
days, although  the  side-board  be  full,  nothing  is  served 
up  until  it  shall  please  the  sun.  Thus,  since  the  town 
has  become  full  of  sun-dials,  you  see  nearly  everybody 
crawling  about,  half  starved  and  emaciated." 

The  other  thermae  of  Pompeii  are  much  smaller,  but 
better  adorned,  and,  above  all,  in  better  preservation. 
Would  you  like  to  take  a  full  bath  there  in  the 
antique  style  ?  You  enter  now  by  a  small  door  in  the 
rear,  and  traverse  a  corridor  where  Hwe  hundred  lamps 
were  found  —  a  striking  proof  that  the  Pompeians 


124  THE   WONDEES   OF   POMPEII. 

passed  at  least  a  portion  of  the  night  at  the  baths. 
This  corridor  conducts  you  to  the  apody teres  or  spolia- 
torium,  the  place  where  the  bathers  undress.  At  first 
blush  you  are  rather  startled  at  the  idea  of  taking  off 
your  clothes  in  an  apartment  with  six  doors,  but  the 
ancients,  who  were  better  seasoned  than  we  are,  were 
not  afraid  of  currents  of  air.  While  a  slave  takes 
your  clothing  and  your  sandals,  and  another,  the 
capsarius,  relieves  you  of  your  jewels,  which  he  will 
deposit  in  a  neighboring  office,  look  at  the  apart- 
ment ;  the  cornice  ornamented  with  lyres  and  griffins, 
above  which  are  ranges  of  lamps ;  the  arched  ceiling 
forming  a  semicircle  divided  off  in  white  panels  edged 
with  red,  and  the  white  mosaic  of  the  pavement 
bordered  with  black.  Here  are  stone  benches  to  sit 
down  upon,  and  pins  fixed  in  the  walls,  where  the 
slave  hangs  up  your  white  woollen  toga  and  your 
tunic.  Above  there  is  a  skylight  formed  of  a  single 
very  thick  pane  of  glass,  and,  firmly  inclosed  within 
an  iron  frame,  which  turns  upon  two  pivots.  The  glass 
is  roughened  on  one  side  to  prevent  inquisitive  people 
from  peeping  into  the  hall  where  we  are.  On  each 
side  of  the  window  some  reliefs,  now  greatly  damaged, 
represent  combats  of  giants. 


THE  THEKM^.  125 


Here  you  are,  as  nude  as  an  antique  statue. 
Were  you  a  true  Roman,  you  would  now  step  into 
an  adjoining  cabinet  which  was  the  anointing  place 
(elwthesiicm),  where  the  anointing  with  oil  was  done, 
and,  after  that,  you  will  go  and  play  tennis  in  the 
court,  which  was  reached  by  a  corridor  now  walled 
up.  The  blue  vault  was  studded  with  golden  stars. 
But  you  are  not  a  true  Roman;  you  have  come 
hither  simply  to  take  a  hot  or  a  cold  bath.  If  a  cold 
one,  pass  on  into  the  small  room  that  opens  at  the 
end  of  the  hall.    It  is  the  frigidarium. 

This  frigidarium  or  natatio  is  a  circular  room, 
which  strikes  you  at  the  outset  by  its  excellent  state 
of  preservation.  In  the  middle  of  it  is  hollowed  out 
a  spacious  round  basin  of  white  marble,  four  yards 
and  a  half  in  diameter  by  about  four  feet  in  depth; 
it  might  serve  to-day — nothing  is  wanting  but  the 
water,  says  Overbeck.  An  inside  circular  series  of 
steps  enabled  the  Pompeians  to  bathe  in  a  sitting 
posture.  Four  niches,  prepared  at  the  places  where 
the  angles  would  be  if  the  apartment  were  square, 
contained  benches  where  the  bathers  rested.  The 
walls  were  painted  yellow  and  adorned  with  green 
11* 


126  TnE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

branches.  The  frieze  and  pediment  were  red  and 
decorated  with  white  bas-reliefs.  The  vault,  which 
was  bine  and  open  overhead,  was  in  the  shape  of  a 
truncated  cone.  It  was  clear,  brilliant,  and  gay,  like 
the  antique  life  itself. 

Do  yon  prefer  a  warm  bath?  Retrace  your  steps 
and,  from  the  apodyteros,  where  you  left  your  cloth- 
ing, pass  into  the  tepidariwn.  This  hall,  which  is 
the  richest  of  the  bathing  establishment,  is  paved 
in  white  mosaic  with  black  borders,  the  vault  richly 
ornamented  with  stucature  and  white  paintings 
standing  forth  from  a  red  and  blue  background. 
These  reliefs  in  stucco  represent  cupids,  chimeras, 
dolphins,  does  pursued  by  lions,  etc.  The  red  walls 
are  adorned  with  closets,  perhaps  intended  for  the 
linen  of  the  bathers,  over  which  jutted  a  cornice 
supported  by  Atlases  or  Telamons  in  baked  clay 
covered  with  stucco.  A  pretty  border  frame  formed 
of  arabesques  separates  the  cornice  from  the 
vault.  A  large  window  at  the  extremity  flanked  by 
two  figures  in  stucco  lighted  up  the  tepidarium, 
while  subterranean  conduits  and  a  large  brazier  of 
bronze  retained  for  it  that  lukewarm  (tepida)  tem- 
perature which  gave  it  the  peculiar  name. 


THE   TIIEBALE.  127 

ds  bronze  brazier  is  still  in  existence,  along  with 
iree  benches  of  the  same  metal  found  in  the  same 
place;  an  inscription — If.  Nigidius  Vaccula  P.  S. 
(pecunid  sua ) — designates  to  us  the  donor  who  pun- 
ning on  his  own  name  Vaccula,  had  caused  a  little 
cow  to  be  carved  upon  the  brazier;  and  on  the 
feet  of  the  benches,  the  hoofs  of  that  quiet  animal. 
The  bottom  of  this  precious  heater  formed  a  huge 
grating  with  bars  of  bronze,  upon  which  bricks 
were  laid;  upon  these  bricks  extended  a  layer  of 
pumice-stones,  and  upon  the  pumice-stones  the  light- 
ed coals. 

"What,  then,  was  the  use  to  which  this  handsome 
tcpidarium  was  applied?  Its  uses  were  manifold, 
as  you  will  learn  farther  on,  but,  for  the  moment, 
it  is  to  prepare  you,  by  a  gentle  warmth,  for  the  tem- 
perature of  the  stove  that  you  are  going  to  enter 
through  a  door  which  closed  of  itself  by  its  own 
weight,  as  the  shape  of  the  hinges  indicates. 

This  caldarium  is  a  long  room  at  the  ends  of 
which  rises,  on  one  side,  something  like  the  parapet 
of  a  well,  and  on  the  other  a  square  basin.  The 
middle  of  the  room  is  the  stove,  properly  speaking. 


128  THE   WONDEES    OF   POMPEU. 

The  steam  did  not  circulate  in  pipes,  but  exhaled 
from  the  wall  itself  and  from  the  hollow  ceiling  in 
warm  emanations.  The  adornments  of  the  walls 
consisted  of  simple  flutings.  The  square  basin 
( diverts  or  baptisterium )  which  served  for  the  warm 
baths  was  of  marble.  It  was  ascended  by  three 
steps  and  descended  on  the  inside  by  an  interior 
bench  upon  which  ten  bathers  could  sit  together. 
Finally,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  in  a  semi- 
circular niche,  rose  the  well  parapet  of  which  I 
spoke;  it  was  a  labrum,  constructed  with  the  public 
funds.  An  inscription  informs  us  that  it  cost  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  sestertii,  that  is  to  say,  something 
over  thirty  dollars.  Yet  this  labrum  is  a  large  mar- 
ble vessel  seven  feet  in  diameter.  Marble  has 
grown  dearer  since  then. 

On  quitting  the  stove,  or  warm  bath,  the  Pom- 
peians  wet  their  heads  in  that  large  wash-basin, 
where  tepid  water  which  must,  at  that  moment, 
have  seemed  cold,  leaped  from  a  bronze  pipe  still 
visible.  Others  still  more  courageous  plunged  into 
the  icy  water  of  the  frigid arium,  and  came  out 
of  it,  they  said,  stronger  and  more  supple  in  their 
limbs.     I  prefer  believing  them  to  imitating  them. 


Have  you  had  enough  of  it?  Would  you  leave 
the  heating  room  ?  You  belong  to  the  slaves  who 
arc  waiting  for  you,  and  will  not  let  you  go.  You 
are  streaming  with  perspiration,  and  the  tractator, 
armed  with  a  strigilla,  or  flesh  brush,  is  there  to 
rasp  your  body.  You  escape  to  the  tepidarium; 
but  it  is  there  that  the  most  cruel  operations  await 
you.  You  belong,  as  I  remarked,  to  the  slaves; 
one  of  them  cuts  your  nails,  another  plucks  out 
your  stray  hair,  and  a  third  still  seeks  to  press 
your  body  and  rasp  the  skin  with  his  brush,  a 
fourth  prepares  the  most  fearful  frictions  yet  to 
ensue,  while  others  deluge  you  with  oils  and  es- 
sences, and  grease  you  with  perfumed  unguents. 
You  asked  just  now  what  was  the  use  of  the  tepi- 
darium; you  now  know,  for  you  have  been  made 
acquainted  with  the  Roman  baths. 

A  word  in  reference  .to  the  unguents  with  which 
you  have  just  been  rubbed.  They  were  of  all 
kinds;  you  have  seen  the  shops  where  they  were 
sold.  They  were  perfumed  with  myrrh,  spikenard, 
and  cinnamon;  there  was  the  Egyptian  unguent  for 
the   feet   and    legs,  the   Phoenician   for   the    cheeks 


130  TUB   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

and  the  breast,  and  the  Sisymbrian  for  the  two 
arms;  the  essence  of  marjoram  for  the  eyebrows 
and  the  hair,  and  that  of  wild  thyme  for  the  nape 
of  the  neck  and  the  keees.  These  unguents  were 
very  dear,  but  they  kept  up  youth  and  health. 

"How  have  you  managed  to  preserve  yourself  so 
long  and  so  well  ? "  asked  Augustus  of  Pollio. 

"  With  wine  inside,  and  oil  outside,  "  responded 
the  old  man. 

As  for  the  utensils  of  the  baths  (a  collection  of  them 
is  still  preserved  at  the  Naples  museum  on  an  iron 
ring),  they  consisted  first  of  the  strigilla,  then  of  the 
little  bottle  or  vial  of  oil,  and  a  sort  of  stove  called  the 
xcajphium.  All  these,  along  with  the  slippers,  the 
apron,  and  the  purse,  composed  the  baggage  that  one 
took  with  him  to  the  baths. 

The  most  curious  of  these  instruments  was  the 
strigilla  or  scraper,  bent  like  a  sickle  and  hollowed 
in  a  sort  of  channel.  With  this  the  slave  curried  the 
bather's  body.  The  poor  people  of  that  country  who 
bathed  in  the  time  of  the  Romans —  they  have  not 
kept  up  the  custom  —  and  who  had  no  strigillarii  at 
their    service,   rubbed  themselves    against  the    wall. 


THE   THERMAE.  131 

e  day  the  Emperor  Hadrian  seeing  one  of  his  vet- 
ns  tlms  engaged,  gave  him  money  and  slaves  to 
igillate  him.  A  few  days  afterward,  the  Emperor, 
ing  to  the  baths,  saw  a  throng  of  panpers  who, 
whenever  they  caught  sight  of  him,  began  to  rub 
vigorously  against  the  wall.  He  merely  said :  "  Rub 
yourselves  againct  each  other  ! " 

There  were  other  apartments  adjoining  those  that 
I  have  designated,  and  very  similar  to  them,  only 
simpler  and  not  so  well  furnished.  These  modest 
baths  served  for  the  slaves,  think  some,  and  for  the 
women,  according  to  others.  The  latter  opinion  I 
think,  lacks  gallantry.  In  front  of  this  edifice,  at  the 
principal  entrance  of  the  baths,  opened  a  tennis-court, 
surrounded  with  columns  and  flanked  by  a  crypt  and 
a  saloon.  Many  inscriptions  covered  the  walls,  among 
others  the  announcement  of  a  show  with  a  hunt, 
awnings,  and  sprinklings  of  perfumed  water.  It  was 
there  that  the  Pompeians  assembled  to  hear  the  news 
concerning  the  public  shows  and  the  rumors  of  the 
day.  There  they  could  read  the  dispatches  from  Rome. 
This  is  no  anachronism,  good  reader,  for  newspapers 

■ere  known  to  the   ancients  —  see  Leclerc's   book  — 


132  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

and  they  were  called  the  diurnes  or  daily  doings  of 
tlie  Roman  people ;  diurnals  and  journals  are  two  i 
words  belonging  to  the  same  family.  Those  ancient 
newspapers  were  as  good  in  their  way  as  our  own. 
They  told  about  actors  who  were  hissed ;  about  fune-  j 
ral  ceremonies ;  of  a  rain  of  milk  and  blood  that  fell 
during  the  consulate  of  M.  Acilius  and  C.  Porcius; 
of  a  sea-serpent  —  but  no,  the  sea-serpent  is  modern. 
Odd  facts  like  the  following  could  be  read  in  them. 
This  took  place  twenty  eight  years  after  Jesus  Christ, 
and  must  have  come  to  the  Pompeians  assembled  in 
the  baths :  "  When  Titus  Sabinus  was  condemned, 
with  his  slaves,  for  having  been  the  friend  of  Germ- 
anicus,  the  dog  of  the  former  could  not  be  got 
away  from  the  spot,  but  accompanied  the  prisoner  to 
the  place  of  execution,  uttering  the  most  doleful  howls 
in  the  presence  of  a  crowd  of  people.  Some  one 
threw  him  a  piece  of  bread  and  he  carried  it  to  his 
master's  lips,  and  when  the  corpse  was  tossed  into  the 
Tiber,  the  dog  dashed  after  it,  and  strove  to  keep  it 
on  the  surface,  so  that  people  came  from  all  directions 
to  admire  the  animal's  devotion." 
We  are  nowhere  informed  that  the  Eoman  journals 


I  THE   THEK&LE.  133 

ere  subjected  to  government  stamp  and  security  for 
good  behavior,  but  they  were  no  more  free  than  those 

»  France.  Here  is  an  anecdote  reported  by  Dion  or 
A,  subject : 

"It  is  well  known,"  he  says,  "that  an  artist  re- 
stored  a  large  portico  at  Borne  which  was  threat- 
ening to  fall,  first  by  strengthening  its  foundations 
at  all  points,  so  that  it  could  not  be  displaced.  He 
then  lined  the  walls  with  sheep's  fleeces  and  thick 
mattresses,  and,  after  having  attached  ropes  to  the 
entire  edifice,  he  succeeded,  by  dint  of  manual  force 
and  the  use  of  capstans,  in  giving  it  its  former  po- 
sition. But  Tiberius,  through  jealousy,  would  not 
allow  the  name  of  this  artist  to  appear  in  the 
newspapers." 

Now  that  you  have  been  told  a  little  concerning 
the  ways  of  the  Boman  people,  you  may  quit  the 
Thermse,  but  not  without  casting  a  glance  at  the 
heating  apparatus  visible  in  a  small  adjacent  court. 
This  you  approach  by  a  long  corridor,  from  the 
ajpodytera.  There  you  find  the  /u/pocaust,  a  spa- 
cious round  fireplace  which  transmitted  warm  air 
through  lower  conduits  to  the  stove,  and  heated  the 
12 


134  THE   WONDEBS   OF   POMPEII. 

two  boilers  built  into  the  masonry  and  supplied 
from  a  reservoir.  From  this  reservoir  the  water  fell 
cold  into  the  first  boiler,  which  sent  it  lukewarm 
into  the  second,  and  the  latter,  being  closer  to  the 
fire,  gave  it  forth  at  a  boiling  temperature.  A 
conduit  carried  the  hot  water  of  the  second  boiler 
to  the  square  basin  of  the  calidarium  and  another 
conveyed  the  tepid  water  of  the  first  boiler  to  the 
large  receptacle  of  the  labrum.  In  the  fire-place 
was  found  a  quantity  of  rosin  which  the  Pompeians 
used  in  kindling  their  fires.  Such  were  the  Ther- 
mse  of  a  small  Eoman  city. 


VI. 

THE    DWELLINGS. 

Paratus  and  Pansa. — The  Atrium  and  the  Peristyle. — The  Dwelling  Re- 
furnished and  Repeopled. — The  Slaves,  the  Kitchen,  and  the  Table.— 
The  Morning  Occupations  of  a  Pompeian. — The  Toilet  of  a  Pompeian 
Lady. — A  Citizen  Supper  :  the  Courses,  the  Guests. — The  Homes  of  the 
Poor,  and  the  Palaces  of  Rome. 

In  order,  now,  to  study  the  home  of  antique  times, 
we  have  but  to  cross  the  street  of  the  baths  ob- 
liquely. We  thus  reach  the  dwelling  of  the  sedile 
Pansa.  He,  at  least,  is  the  proprietor  designated 
by  general  opinion,  which,  according  to  my  ideas, 
is  wrong  in  this  particular.  An  inscription  painted 
on  the  door-post  has  given  rise  to  this  error.  The 
inscription  runs  thus  :  Pansam  cedilem  Paratus 
rogat.  This  the  early  antiquarians  translated:  Pa- 
ratus invokes  Pansa  the  cediU.  The  early  antiqua- 
ries erred.  They  should  have  rendered  it:  Paratus 
demands  Pansa  for  cedile.  It  was  not  an  invoca- 
tion but  an  electoral  nomination.    We  have  already 

(135) 


136  THE   WONDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

deciphered  many  like  inscriptions.  Universal  suf- 
frage put  itself  forward  among  the  ancients  as  it 
does  with  us. 

Ilcnce,  the  dwelling  that  I  am  about  to  enter 
was  not  that  of  Pansa,  whose  name  is  found  thus 
suggested  for  the  sedileship  in  many  other  places, 
but  rather  that  of  Paratus,  who,  in  order  to  des- 
ignate the  candidate  of  his  choice,  wrote  the  name 
on  his  door-post. 

Such  is  my  opinion,  but,  as  one  runs   the  risk  of 
muddling    everything    by   changing    names    already 
accepted,  I  do  not  insist   upon  it.     So  let  us  enter ' 
the  house  of  Pansa  the  eedile. 

This  dwelling  is  not  the  most  ornate,  but  it  is 
the  most  regular  in  Pompeii,  and  also  the  least  com- 
plicated and  the  most  simply  complete.  Thus,  all 
the  guides  point  it  out  as  the  model  house,  and  per- 
ceiving that  they  are  right  in  so  doing,  I  will  imi- 
tate them. 

In  what  did  a  Pompeian's  dwelling  differ  from 
a  small  stylish  residence  or  villa  of  modern  times? 
In  a  thousand  and  one  points  which  we  shall  dis- 
cover,  step  by  step,  but   chiefly  in  this,  that   it  was 


THE   DWELLINGS.  137 


turned  inwards,  or,  as  it  were,  doubled  upon  itself; 
not  that  it  was,  as  lias  been  said,  altogether  a 
stranger  to  the  street,  and  presented  to  the  latter 
only  a  large  painted  wall,  a  sort  of  lofty  screen. 
The  upper  stories  of  the  Pompeian  houses  having 
nearly  all  crumbled,  we  are  not  in  a  position  to 
affirm  that  they  did  not  have  windows  opening  on 
the  public  streets.  I  have  already  shown  you  mceni- 
ana  cr  suspended  balconies  from  which  the  pretty 
girls  of  the  place  could  ogle  the  passers-by.  But 
it  is  ce:  tain  that  the  first  floor,  consisting  of  the 
finest  and  best  occupied  apartments,  grouped  its 
rooms  around  two  interior  courts  and  turned  their 
backs  to  the  street.  Hence,  these  two  courts  open- 
ing one  behind  the  other,  the  development  of 
the  front  was  but  a  small  affair  compared  with  the 
depth  of  the  house. 

These    courts   were    called    the   atrium    and    the 

peristyle.     One   might  say  that  the   atrium  was  the 

public  and    the    peristyle   the    private    part   of    the 

.  establishment  •  that  the  former  belonged  to  the  world 

^and   the   second    to   the   family.     This   arrangement 

nearly  corresponded  with   the   division  of  the   Greek 

12* 


138  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

dwelling  into  andronitis  and  gynaikotis,  the  side 
for  the  men  and  the  side  for  the  women.  Around 
the  atrium  were  usually  ranged  —  we  must  not  be 
too  rigorously  precise  in  these  distinctions  —  the 
rooms  intended  for  the  people  of  the  house,  and 
those  who  called  upon  them.  Around  the  peristyle 
were  the  rooms  reserved  for  the  private  occupancy 
of  the  family. 

I  commence  with  the  atrium.  It  was  reached 
from  the  street  by  a  narrow  alley  (the  jprothyrum), 
opening,  by  a  two-leaved  door,  upon  the  sidewalk. 
The  doors  have  been  burned,  but  we  can  picture  them 
to  ourselves  according  to  the  paintings,  as  being  of 
oak,  with  narrow  panels  adorned  with  gilded  nails, 
provided  with  a  ring  to  open  them  by,  and  surmounted 
with  a  small  window  lighting  up  the  alley.  They 
opened  inwards,  and  were  secured  by  means  of  a  bolt, 
which  shot  vertically  downward  into  the  threshold 
instead  of  reaching  across. 

I  enter  right  foot  foremost,  according  to  the  Roman 
custom  (to  enter  with  the  left  foot  was  a  bad  omen) ; 
and  I  first  salute  the  inscription  on  the  threshold 
{salve)  which  bids  me  welcome.     The   porter's  lodge 


I 


THE   DWELLINGS.  139 


(cella  ostiarii)  was  usually  hollowed  out  in  the  entry- 
way,  and  the  slave  in  question  was  sometimes  chained, 
a  precaution  which  held  him  at  his  post,  undoubtedly, 
but  which  hindered  him  from  pursuing  robbers. 
Sometimes,  there  was  only  a  dog  on  guard  ^  in  his 
place,  or  merely  the  representation  of  a  dog  in  mosaic  : 
there  is  one  in  excellent  preservation  at  the  Museum 
in  Naples  retaining  the  famous  inscription  {Cave 
canem)  —  " Beware  of  the  dog!  " 

The  atrium  was  not  altogether  a  court,  but  rather 
a  large  hall  covered  with  a  roof,  in  the  middle  of 
which  opened  a  large  bay  window.  Thus  the  air  and 
the  light  spread  freely  throughout  the  spacious  room, 
and  the  rain  fell  from  the  sky  or  dripped  down 
over  the  four  sloping  roofs  into  a  marble  basin,  called 
impluvium,  that  conveyed  it  to  the  cistern,  the  mouth 
of  which  is  still  visible.  The  roofs  usually  rested  on 
large  cross-beams  fixed  in  the  walls.  In  such  case, 
the  atrium  was  Tuscan,  in  the  old  fashion.  Some- 
times, the  roofs  rested  on  columns  planted  at  the  four 
cornel's  of  the  impluvium:  then,  the  opening  en- 
larged, and  the  atrium  became  a  tetrastyle.  Some 
authors  mention  still  other  kinds  of  atria  —  the  Co- 


140  THE    WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

vinthian,  which  was  richly  decorated ;  the  dipluviatuTT^ 
where  the  roof,  instead  of  sloping  inward,  sloped 
outward  and  threw  off  the  rain-water  into  the  street ; 
the  testudinatum,  in  which  the  roof  looked  like  an 
immense  tortoise-shell,  etc.  But  these  forms  of  roofs, 
especially  the  last  mentioned,  were  rare,  and  the 
Tuscan  atrium  was  almost  everywhere  predominant, 
as  we  find  it  on  Pansa's  house. 

Place  yourself  at  the  end  of  the  alley,  with  youi 
back  toward  the  street,  and  you  command  a  view  oJ 
this  little  court  and  its  dependencies.  It  is  needless 
to  say  that  the  roof  has  disappeared:  the  eruptioi 
consumed  the  beams,  the  tiles  have  been  broken  bj 
falling,  and  not  only  the  tiles  but  the  antefixes,  cut  ii 
palm-leaves  or  in  lion's  heads,  which  spouted  the  wate] 
into  the  impluvium.  Nothing  remains  but  the  bask 
and  the  partition  walls  which  marked  the  subdivi 
sions  of  the  ground-floor.  One  first  discovers  a  roon 
of  considerable  size  at  the  end,  between  a  smallei 
room  and  a  corridor,  and  eight  other  side  cabinets 
Of  these  eight  cabinets,  the  six  that  come  first,  three 
to  the  right  and  three  to  the  left,  were  bedrooms, 
or  cubicula.    What  first  strikes  the  observer  is  tlieu 


THE   DWELLINGS.  141 

diminutive  size.  There  was  room  only  for  the  bed, 
which  was  frequently  indicated  by  an  elevation  of 
the  masonry,  and  on  that  mattresses  or  sheepskins 
were  stretched.  The  bedsteads  often  were  also  of 
bronze  or  wood,  quite  like  those  of  our  time.  These 
eubicula  received  the  air  and  the  light  through  the 
door,  which  the  Pompeians  probably  left  open  in 
summer. 

Next  to  the  eubicula  came  laterally  the  alae,  the 
wings,  in  which  Pansa  (if  not  Paratus)  received  his 
visitors  in  the  morning  —  friends,  clients,  parasites. 
These  rooms  must  have  been  rich,  paved,  as  they  were, 
with  lozenges  of  marble  and  surrounded  with  seats 
or  divans.  The  large  room  at  the  end  was  the 
tciblinum,  which  separated,  or  rather  connected,  the 
two  courts  and  ascended  by  two  steps  to  the  peristyle. 
In  this  tablinum,  which  was  a  show-room  or  parlor, 
were  kept  the  archives  of  the  family,  and  the  imagines 
majorumy  or  images  of  ancestors,  which  were  wax 
figures  extolled  in  grand  inscriptions,  stood  there  in 
rows.  You  have  observed  that  they  were  conducted  with 
great  pomp  in  the  funeral  processions.  The  Romans 
did  not  despise  these    exhibitions  of  vanity.     They 


142  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPLI1. 

clung  all  the  more  tenaciously  to  their  ancestry  as  thej 
became  more  and  more  separated  from  them  by  thei 
lapse  of  ages  and  the  decay  of  old  manners  and  customs. 

To  the  left  of  the  tablinum  opened  the  library, 
where  were  found  some  volumes,  unfortunately  almost 
destroyed ;  and  off  to  the  right  of  the  tablinum  ran 
the  fauces,  a  narrow  corridor  leading  to  the  peristyle. 

Thus,  a  show-room,  two  reception  rooms,  a  library, 
six  bedchambers  for  slaves  or  for  guests,  and  all 
these  ranged  aiound  a  hall  lighted  from  above, 
paved  in  white  mosaic  with  black  edging  between 
and  adorned  with  a  marble  basin,  —  such  is  the  at- 
rium of  Pansa. 

I  am  now  going  to  pass  beyond  into  the  fauces. 
An  apartment  opens  upon  this  corridor  and  serves  as  a 
pendant  to  the  library ;  it  is  a  bedroom,  as  a  recess 
left  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall  for  the  bedstead 
indicates.     A  step  more  and  I  reach  the  peristyle. 

The  peristyle  is  a  real  court  or  a  garden  sur- 
rounded with  columns  forming  a  portico.  In  the 
house  of  Pansa,  the  sixteen  columns,  although 
originally  Doric,  had  been  repaired  in  the  Corinthian 
style    by   means    of    a  replastering    of    stucco.     In 


THE   DWELLINGS.  143 


some  houses  they  were  connected  by  balustrades 
or  walls  breast  high,  on  which  flowers  in  either  vases 
or  boxes  of  marble  were  placed,  and  in  one  Pom- 
peian  house  there  was  a  frame  set  with  glass  panes. 
In  the  midst  of  the  co;irt  was  hollowed  out  a  spa- 
cious basin  (pisci?ia),  sometimes  replaced  by  a  parterre 
from  which  the  water  leaped  gaily.  In  the  peri- 
style of  Pansa's  house  is  still  seen,  in  an  intercol- 
umniation,  the  mouth  of  a  cistern.  We  are  now 
in  the  richest  and  most  favored  part  of  the  estab- 
lishment. 

At  the  end  opens  the  cecus,  the  most  spacious 
hall,  surrounded,  in  the  houses  of  the  opulent  Ro- 
mans, with  columns  and  galleries,  decorated  with 
precious  marbles  developing  into  a  basilica.  But 
in  the  house  of  Pansa  do  not  look  for  such  splen- 
dors. Its  cecus  was  but  a  large  chamber  between 
the  peristyle  and  a  garden. 

To  the  right  of  the  oecus,  at  the  end  of  the 
court,  is  half  hidden  a  smaller  and  less  obtrusive 
apartment,  probably  an  exedra.  On  the  right  wing 
of  the  peristyle,  on  the  last  range,  recedes  the  tri- 
clinium.     The  word  signifies  triple  bed;  three  beds 


144  THE   WONDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

in  fine,  ranged  in  horse-shoe  order,  occupied  this- 
apartment,  which  served  as  a  dining-room.  It  i$\ 
well  known  that  the  ancients  took  their  meals  iifci 
a  reclining  attitude  and  resting  on  their  elbows. 
This  Carthaginian  custom,  imported  by  the  Punic- 
wars,  had  become  established  everywhere,  even  ail 
Pompeii.  The  ancients  said  "make  the  beds,"  in- 
stead of  "  lay  the  table." 

To  the  right  of  the  peristyle  on  the  first  rang* 
glides  a  corridor  receding  toward  a  private  dooi 
that  opens  on  a  small  side  street.  This  was  the 
posticum,  by  which  the  master  of  the  house  evaded 
the  importunate  visitors  who  filled  the  atrium. 
This  method  of  escaping  bores  was  called  postico 
fallere  clientem.  It  was  a  device  that  must  have 
been  familiar  to  rich  persons  who  were  beset 
every  morning  by  a  throng  of  petitioners  and 
hangers-on. 

The  left  side  of  the  peristyle  was  occupied  by 
three  bedchambers,  and  by  the  kitchen,  which  was 
hidden  at  the  end,  to  the  left  of  the  cecus.  This 
kitchen,  like  most  of  the  others,  has  its  fireplaces 
and  ovens  still  standing.     They  contained  ashes  and 


THE   DWELLINGS.  145 


w-m  coal  when  tliey  were  discovered,  not  to  men- 
tion the  cooking  utensils  in  terra  cotta  and  in 
bronze.  Upon  the  walls  were  painted  two  enormous 
serpents,  sacred  reptiles  which  protected  the  altar 
of  Fornax,  the  culinary  divinity.  Other  paintings 
(a  hare,  a  pig,  a  wild  boar's  head,  fish,  etc.)  orna- 
mented this  room  adjoining  which  was,  in  the  olden 
time  among  the  Pompeians,  as  to-day  among  the 
Neapolitans,  the  most  ignoble  retreat  in  the  dwell- 
ing. A  cabinet  close  by  served  for  a  pantry,  and 
there  were  found  in  it  a  large  table  and  jars  of 
oil  ranged  along  on  a  bench. 

Thus  a  large  portico  with  columns,  surrounding 
a  court  adorned  with  a  marble  basin  (piscina); 
around  the  portico  on  the  right,  three  bed- 
chambers or  cuhicula  ;  on  the  right,  a  rear  door 
(posticitm)  and  an  eating  room  (triclinium);  at 
the  end,  the  grand  saloon  (cecus),  between  an 
exedra  and  kitchen  —  such  was  the  peristyle  of 
Pansa. 

This  relatively  spacious  habitation  had  still  a  third 
depth  (allow  ma  the  expression)  behind  the  peri- 
style.    This  was    the  xystcc    or    garden,   divided  off 


146  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

into  beds,  and  the  divisions  of  which,  when  it  w* 
found,  could  still  be  seen  marked  in  the  ashes. 
Some  antiquaries  make  it  out  that  the  xysta  of 
Pansa  was  merely  a  kitchen  garden.  Between  the' 
xysta  and  the  peristyle  was  the  jpergula,  a  two- 
storied  covered  gallery,  a  shelter  against  the  sun 
and  the  rain.  The  occupants  in  their  flight  left 
behind  them   a  handsome  bronze   candlestick. 

Such  was  the  ground-floor  of  a  rich  Pompeian 
dwelling.  As  for  the  upper  stories,  we  can  say 
nothing  about  them.  Fire  and  time  have  completely 
destroyed  them.  They  were  probably  very  light 
structures ;  the  lower  walls  could  not  have  supported 
others.  Most  of  the  partitions  must  have  been  of 
wood.  We  know  from  books  that  the  women,  slaves, 
and  lodgers  perched  in  these  pigeon-houses,  which, 
destitute,  as  they  were,  of  the  space  reserved  for  the 
wide  courts  and  the  large  lower  halls,  must  have  been 
sufficiently  narrow  and  unpleasant.  Other  more 
opulent  houses  had  some  rooms  that  were  lacking  in 
the  house  of  Pansa :  these  were,  first,  bathrooms,  then 
a  spheriste?'  for  tennis,  a  pinacotheJc  or  gallery  of 
paintings,  a  sacellum  or  family  chapel,  and  what  mo^e 


THE   DWELLINGS.  147 

know  not.  The  dimiimtiveness  of  these  small 
rooms  admitted  of  their  being  infinitely  multiplied. 

I  have  not  said  all.  The  house  of  Pansa  formed  an 
island  (i?isula)  all  surrounded  with  streets,  upon  three 
of  which  opened  shops  that  I  have  yet  to  visit.  At 
first,  on  the  left  angle,  a  bakery,  less  complete  than 
the  public  ovens  to  which  I  conducted  you  in  the 
second  chapter  preceding  this  one.  There  were 
found  ornaments  singularly  irreconcilable  with  each 
other;  inscriptions,  thoroughly  Pagan  in  their 
character,  which  recalled  Epicurus,  and  a  Latin 
cross  in  relief,  very  sharply  marked  upon  a  wall. 
This  Christian  symbol  allows  fancy  to  spread  her 
wings,  and  Bulwer,  the  romance-writer,  has  largely 
profited  by  it.  - 

A  shop  in  the  front,  the  second  to  the  left  of  the 
entrance  door,  communicated  with  the  house.  The 
proprietor,  then,  was  a  merchant,  or,  at  least,  he  sold 
the  products  of  his  vineyards  and  orchards  on  his  own 
premises,  as  many  gentlemen  vine-growers  of  Florence 
still  do.  A  slave  called  the  dispetisator  was  the 
manager  of  this  business. 

Some  of  these  shops  opening  on  a  side-street,  com- 


148  THE   W03STDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

posed  small  rooms  altogether  independent  of  the 
house,  and  probably  occupied  by  inqailini*  or  lodgers, 
a  class  of  people  despised  among  the  ancients,  who 
highly  esteemed  the  homestead  idea.  A  Roman  who 
did  not  live  under  his  own  roof  would  cnt  as  poor  av. 
figure  as  a  Parisian  who  did  not  occupy  his  own  fur- 
nished rooms,  or  a  Neapolitan  compelled  to  go  afoot. 
Hence,  the  petty  townsmen  clubbed  together  to  build 
or  buy  a  hoiise,  which  they  owned  in  common,  prefer- 
ring the  inconveniences  of  a  divided  proprietorship  to 
those  of  a  mere  temporary  occupancy.  But  they  have 
greatly  changed  their  notions  in  that  country,  for  now 
they  move  every  year. 

I  have  done  no  more  here  than  merely  to  sketch  the 
plan  of  the  house.  Would  you  refurnish  it  ?  Then, 
rifle  the  Naples  museum,  which  has  despoiled  it.  You 
will  find  enough  of  bedsteads,  in  the  collection  of 
bronzes  there,  for  the  cubicula;  enough  of  carved 
benches,  tables,  stands,  and  precious  vases  for  the  oecus, 
the  exedra,  and  the  wings,  and  enough  of  lamps  to  hang 

*  So  strong  was  this  feeling,  that  the  very  name  inquitimis,  or 
lodger,  was  an  insult.  Cicero  not  having  been  born  at  Rome,  Cati- 
line called  him  offensively  civis  inquilmus  —  a  lodger  citizen.  (Sal- 
lust.) 


Candelabra,  JVwelrv,  and  Kitehi-n   Utensils  found  at  Pompeii 


library- 


Of  Guttt^S 


M 


I 


THE   DWELLINGS.  149 


rip ;  enough  of  candelabra  to  place  in  the  saloons. 
Stretch  carpets  over  the  costly  mosaic  pavements 
and  even  over  the  simple  opus  signinum  (a  mixture 
of  lime  and  crushed  brick)  which  covered  the  floor 
of  the  unpretending  chambers  with  a  solid  incrusta- 
tion. Above  all,  replace  the  ceilings  and  the  roofs, 
and  then  the  doors  and  draperies ;  in  fine,  revive 
upon  all  these  walls  —  the  humblest  as  well  as  the 
most  splendid  —  the  bright  and  vivid  pictures  now 
effaced.  What  light,  and  what  a  gay  impression ! 
How  all  these  clear,  bold  colors  gleam  out  in  the 
sunshine,  which  .  descends  in  floods  from  an  open 
shy  into  the  peristyle  and  the  atrium!  But  that  is 
not  all :  you  must  conjure  up  the  dead.  Arise,  then, 
and  obey  our  call,  O  young  Pompeians  of  the  first 
century!  I  summon  Pansa,  Paratus,  their  wives, 
their  children,  their  slaves;  the  ostiarius,  who  kept 
the  door ;  the  atriensis,  who  controlled  the  atrium ; 
the  scqparius,  armed  with  his  birch-broom ;  the 
cuhicularii,  who  were  the  bedroom  servants;  the 
pedagogue,  my  colleague,  who  was  a  slave  like  the 
rest,  although  he  was  absolute  master  of  the  library, 

where  he  alone,  perhaps,  understood  the  secrets  of 
13* 


150  TIIE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

the  papyri  it  contained.  I  hasten  to  the  kitchen: 
I  want  to  see  it  as  it  was  in  the  ancient  day,  —  the 
camarium,  provided  with  pegs  and  nails  for  the 
fresh  provisions,  is  suspended  to  the  ceiling;  the  cook- 
ing ranges  are  garnished  with  chased  stew-pans  and 
coppers,  and  large  bronze  pails,  with  luxurious  handles, 
are  ranged  along  on  the  floor;  the  walls  are  covered 
with  shining  utensils,  long-handled  spoons  bent  in 
the  shape  of  a  swan's  neck  and  head,  skillets  and 
frying-pans,  the  spit  and  its  iron  stand,  gridirons, 
pastry-moulds  (patty-pans?)  fish-moulds  {fonndlci), 
and  what  is  no  less  curious,  the  apalare  and  the  trua, 
flat  spoons  pierced  with  holes  either  to  fry  eggs  or 
to  beat  up  liquids,  and,  in  fine,  the  funnels,  the  sieves, 
the  strainers,  the  colum  vinarium,  which  they 
covered  with  snow  and  then  poured  their  wine  over 
it,  so  that  the  latter  dropped  freshened  and  cooled 
into  the  cups  below,  —  all  rare  and  precious  relics 
preserved  by  Vesuvius,  and  showing  in  what  odd 
corners  elegance  nestled,  as  Moliere  would  have  said, 
among  the  Romans  of  the  olden  times. 

None  but  men  entered  this  kitchen :  they  were  the 
cook,  or  coquus,  and  his  subaltern,  the  slave  of  the 


THE   DWELLINGS.  151 

slave,  focarius.  The  meal  is  ready,  and  now  come 
other  slaves  assigned  to  the  table,  —  the  tricliniarches, 
or  foreman  of  all  the  rest;  the  leelisterniator,  who 
makes  the  beds;  the  praecjustator,  who  tastes  the 
viands  beforehand  to  reassure  his  master ;  the  structor, 
who  arranges  the  dishes  on  the  plateaux  or  trays ;  the 
scissor,  who  carves  the  meats ;  and  the  young jpocillatro, 
ovpincema,  who  pours  out  the  wine  into  the  cups,  some- 
times dancing  as  he  does  so  (as  represented  by  Moliere) 
with  the  airs  and  graces  of  a  woman  or  a  spoiled  child. 
There  is  f estivity  to-day  :  Paratus  sups  with  Pansa, 
or  rather  Pansa  with  Paratus,  for  I  persist  in  thinking 
that  we  are  in  the  house  of  the  elector  and  not  of 
the  future  cedile.  If  the  master  of  the  house  be  a 
real  Eoman  like  Cicero,  he  rose  early  this  morning 
and  began  the  day  with  receiving  visits.  lie  is  rich, 
and  therefore  has  many  friends,  and  has  them  of 
three  kinds,  —  the  salutatores,  the  ductores,  and  the 
assectatorcs.  The  first-named  call  upon  him  at  his 
own  house ;  the  second  accompany  him  to  public 
meetings ;  and  the  third  never  leave  him  at  all  in  pub- 
lic, lie  has,  besides,  a  number  of  clients,  whom  he 
protects  and  whom  he  calls  "my  father"  if  they  be 


152  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

old,  and  "  my  brother "  if  they  be  young.  There  are 
others  who  come  humbly  to  offer  him  a  little  basket 
(yportald),  which  they  carry  away  full  of  money  or 
provisions.  This  morning  Paratus  has  sent  off  his  vis- 
itors expeditious]y ;  then,  as  he  is  no  doubt  a  pious 
man,  he  has  gone  through  his  devotions  before  the 
domestic  altar,  where  his  household  gods  are  ranged. 
We  know  that  he  offered  peculiar  worship  to  Bacchus, 
for  he  had  a  little  bronze  statue  of  that  god,  with  silver 
eyes;  it  was,  I  think,  at  the  entrance  of  his  garden, 
in  a  kettle,  wrapped  up  with  other  precious  articles, 
Paratus  tried  to  save  this  treasure  on  the  day  of  the 
eruption,  but  he  had  to  abandon  it  in  order  to  save 
himself.  But  to  continue  my  narration  of  the  day  as 
this  Pompeian  spent  it.  His  devotions  over,  he  took  a 
turn  to  the  Forum,  the  Exchange,  the  Basilica,  where 
he  supported  the  candidature  of  Pansa.  From  there, 
unquestionably,  he  did  not  omit  going  to  the  Thermae, 
a  measure  of  health ;  and,  now,  at  length,  he  has  just 
returned  to  his  home.  During  his  absence,  his  slaves 
have  cleansed  the  marbles,  washed  the  stucco,  covered 
the  pavements  with  sawdust,  and,  if  it  be  in  winter, 
have  lit  fuel  on  large  bronze  braziers  in  the  open  air  and 


THE   DWELLINGS.  153 


borne  them  into  the  saloons,  for  there  are  no  chim- 
neys anywhere.  The  expected  gnest  at  length  arrives  — 
salutations  to  Pansa,  the  future  sedile!  Meanwhile 
Sabina,  the  wife  of  Paratus,  has  not  remained  inactive. 
She  has  passed  the  whole  morning  at  her  toilet,  for 
tlie  toilet  of  a  Sabina,  Pompeian  or  Roman,  is  an 
affair  of  state,  —  see  Boettger's  book.  As  she  awoke 
she  snapped  her  fingers  to  summon  her  slaves,  and 
the  poor  girls  have  hastened  to  accomplish  this  pro- 
digious piece  of  work.  First,  the  applier  of  cosmetics 
lias  effaced  the  wrinkles  from  the  brows  of  her  mistress, 
and,  then,  with  her  saliva,  has  prepared  her  rouge; 
then,  with  a  needle,  she  has  painted  her  mistress'  eye- 
lashes and  eyebrows,  forming  two  well-arched  and 
tufted  lines  of  jetty  hue,  which  unite  at  the  root  of  the 
nose.  This  operation  completed,  she  has  washed  Sa- 
bina's  teeth  with  rosin  from  Scio,  or  more  simply,  with 
pulverized  pumice-stone,  and,  finally,  has  overspread 
her  entire  countenance  with  the  white  powder  of  lead 
which  was  much  used  by  the  Romans  at  that  early  day. 
Then  came  the  omatrix,  or  hairdresser.  The  fair 
Romans  dyed  their  hair  blonde,  and  when  the  dyeing 
process   was    not  sufficient,  they    wore    wigs.     Tlris 


154  THE   WONDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

example  was  followed  by  the  artists,  who  put  wigs  on 
their  statues  ;  in  France  they  would  put  on  crinoline. 
Ancient  head-dresses  were  formidable  monuments 
held  up  with  pins  of  seven  or  eight  inches  in  length. 
One  of  these  pins,  found  at  Herculaneum,  is  sur- 
mounted with  a  Corinthian  capital  upon  which  a 
carved  Yenus  is  twisting  her  hair  with  both  hands 
while  she  looks  into  a  mirror  that  Cupid  holds  up 
before  her.  The  mirrors  of  those  ancient  days  —  let 
us  exhaust  the  subject !  —  were  of  polished  metal ;  the 
richest  were  composed  of  a  plate  of  silver  applied 
upon  a  plate  of  gold  and  sustained  by  a  carved  handle 
of  wood  or  ivory ;  and  Seneca  exclaimed,  in  his  testy 
indignation,  "The  dowry  that  the  Senate  once  be- 
stowed upon  the  daughter  of  Scipio  would  no  longer 
suffice  to  pay  for  the  mirror  of  a  freedwoman  !• " 

At  length,  Sabina's  hair  is  dressed :  Heaven  grant 
that  she  may  be  pleased  with  it,  and  may  not,  in  a  fit 
of  rage,  plunge  one  of  her  long  pins  into  the  naked 
shoulder  of  the  ornatrix !  Now  comes  the  slave  who 
cuts  her  nails,  for  never  would  a  Roman  lady,  or  a  Ro- 
man gentleman  either,  who  had  any  self-respect,  have 
deigned  to    perform  this  operation  with   their    own 


THE   DWELLINGS.  155 

mds.  It  was  to  the  barber  or  tonsor  that  this  office 
was  assigned,  along  with  the  whole  masculine  toilet, 
generally  speaking ;  that  worthy  shaved  yon,  clipped 
you,  plucked  you,  even  washed  you  and  rubbed  your 
skin  ;  perfumed  you  with  unguents,  and  curried  you 
with  the  strigilla  if  the  slaves  at  the  bath  had  not 
already  done  so.  Horace  makes  great  sport  of  an 
eccentric  who  used  to  pare  his  own  nails. 

Sabina  then  abandons  her  hands  to  -  a  slave  who, 
armed  with  a  set  of  small  pincers  and  a  penknife  (the 
ancients  were  unacquainted  with  scissors),  acquitted 
themselves  skilfully  of  that  delicate  task  —  a  most 
grave  affair  and  a  tedious  operation,  as  the  Roman 
ladies  wore  no  gloves.  Gesticulation  was  for  them 
a  science  learnedly  termed  cliironomy.  Like  a  skilful 
instrument,  pantomime  harmoniously  accompanied 
the  voice.  Hence,  all  those  striking  expressions  that 
we  find  in  authors, — "  the  subtle  devices  of  the  fingers," 
as  Cicero  has  it;  the  "loquacious  hand"  of  Petronius. 
Itecall  to  your  memory  the  beautiful  hands  of  Diana 
and  Minerva,  and  these  two  lines  of  Ovid,  which  nat- 
urally come  in  here : 


156  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

"Exiguo  signet  gestu  quodcunque  loquetur, 
Cui  cligiti  pingues,  cui  scaber  unguis  erit."  * 

The  nail-paring  over,  there  remains  the  dressing 
of  the  person,  to  be  accomplished  by  other  slaves.  The 
seamstresses  (cardnatrices)  belonged  to  the  least- 
important  class ;  for  that  matter,  there  was  little  or  no 
sewing  to  do  on  the  garments  of  the  ancients. 
Lucretia  had  been  dead  for  many  years,  and  the 
matrons  of  the  empire  did  not  waste  their  time  in 
spinning  wool.  When  Livia  wanted  to  make  the 
garments  of  Augustus  with  her  own  hands,  this 
fancy  of  the  Empress  was  considered  to  be  in  very 
bad  taste.  A  long  retinue  of  slaves  (cutters,  linen- 
dressers,  folders,  etc.),  shared  in  the  work  of  the 
feminine  toilet,  which,  after  all,  was  the  simplest  that 
had  been  worn  since  the  nudity  of  the  earliest  days. 
Over  the  scarf  which  they  called  trqphium,  and  which 
sufficed  to  hold  up  their  bosoms,  the  Roman  ladies 
passed  a  long-sleeved  suhucula,  made  of  fine  wool,  and 
over  that  they  wore  nothing  but  the  tunic  when  in  the 
house.     The  libertince,  or  simple   citizens'  wives   and 

*  Let  not  fingers  that  are  too  thick,  and  ill-pared  nails,  make 
gestures  too  conspicuous. 


I 


THE   DWELLINGS.  157 


daughters,  wore  this  robe  short  and  coming  scarcely  to 
the  knee,  so  as  to  leave  in  sight  the  rich  bracelets  that 
they  wore  around  their  legs.  But  the  matrons  length- 
ened the  ordinary  tunic  by  means  of  a  plaited  furbe- 
low or  flounce  (institd),  edged,  sometimes,  with  golden 
or  purple  thread.  In  such  case,  it  took  the  name  of 
stola,  and  descended  to  their  feet.  They  knotted  it  at 
the  waist,  by  means  of  a  girdle  artistically  hidden 
under  a  fold  of  the  tucked-up  garment.  Below  the  tunic, 
the  women  when  on  the  street  wore,  lastly,  their  toga, 
which  was  a  roomy  mantle  enveloping  the  bosom  and 
flung  back  over  the  left  shoulder ;  and  thus  attired, 
they  moved  along  proudly,  draped  in  white  woollens. 
At  length,  the  wife  of  Paratus  is  completely  at- 
tired ;  she  has  drawn  on  the  white  bootees  worn  by 
matrons;  unless,  indeed,  she  happens  to  prefer  the 
sandals  worn  by  the  libertinse, —  the  f reedwomen  were 
so  called, — which  left  those  large,  handsome  Eoman 
feet,  which  we  should  like  to  see  a  little  smaller, 
uncovered.  The  selection  of  her  jewelry  is  now  all 
that  remains  to  be  done.  Sabina  owned  some  curious 
specimens  that  were  found  in  the  ruins  of  her  house. 
The  Latins  had  a  discourteous  word  to  designate  this 


158  TIIE  WONDERS   OF  POMPEDT. 

collection  of  precious  knick-knackery;  they  called 
it  the  "  woman's  world, "  as  though  it  were  indeed  all 
that  there  was  in  the  world  for  women.  One  room 
in  the  Museum  at  ^Naples  is  full  of  these  exhumed 
trinkets,  consisting  of  serpents  bent  into  rings  and 
bracelets,  circlets  of  gold  set  with  carved  stones,  ear- 
rings representing  sets  of  scales,  clusters  of  pearls, 
threads  of  gold  skilfully  twisted  into  necklaces; 
chaplets  to  which  hung  amulets,  of  more  or  less  decent 
design,  intended  as  charms  to  ward  off  ill-luck ;  pins 
with  carved  heads ;  rich  clasps  that  held  up  the  tunic 
sleeves  or  the  gathered  folds  of  the  mantle,  cameoed 
with  a  superb  relief  and  of  exquisite  workmanship 
worthy  of  Greece;  in  fine,  all  that  luxury  and  art, 
sustaining  each  other,  could  invent  that  was  most 
wonderful.  The  Pompeian  ladies,  in  their  character  of 
provincials,  must  have  carried  this  love  of  baubles  that 
cost  them  so  dearly,  to  extremes :  thus,  they  wore 
them  in  their  hair,  in  their  ears,  on  their  necks,  on 
their  shoulders,  their  arms,  their  wrists,  their  legs,  even 
on  their  ankles  and  their  feet,  but  especially  on 
their  hands,  every  finger  of  which,  excepting  the 
middle  one,  was  covered  with  rings  up  to  the  third  joint, 


Necklace,  Ring,  Bracelets,  and  Ear-rings  found  at  Pompeii. 


THE  DWELLINGS.  159 

iere  their  lovers  slipped  on  those  that  they  desired 

exchange  with  them. 

Her  toilet  completed,  Sabina  descended  from  her 
-oom  in  the  npper  story.  The  ordinary  guests,  the 
-iencl  of  the  house,  the  clients  and  the  shadows 
(such  was  the  name  applied  to  the  supernumera- 
ries, the  humble  doubles  whom  the  invited  guests 
brought  with  them),  awaited  her  in  the  peristyle. 
Nine  guests  in  all  —  the  number  of  the  Muses; 
It  was  forbidden  to  exceed  that  total  at  the  sup- 
pers of  the  triclinium.  There  were  never  more 
than  nine,  nor  less  than  three,  the  number  of 
the  Graces.  When  a  great  lord  invited  six  thou- 
sand Romans  to  his  table,  the  couches  were  laid 
in  the  atrium.  But  there  is  not  an  atrium  in 
Pompeii  that  could  contain  the  hundredth  part  of 
that  number. 

The  ninth  hour  of  the  day,  i.  e.,  the  third  or 
fourth  in  the  afternoon,  has  sounded,  and  it  is 
now  that  the  supper  begins  in  all  respectable 
houses.  Some  light  collations,  in  the  morning  and 
at  noon,  have  only  sharpened  the  appetites  of  the 
guests.     All   are   now   assembled;   they  wash  their 


160  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

hands    and    their  feet,    leave    their    sandals    at  the 
door,   and   are   shown  into   the   triclinium. 

The  three  bronze  bedsteads  are  covered  with 
cushions  and  drapery ;  the  one  at  the  end  {the 
medius)  in  one  corner  represents  the  place  of 
honor  reserved  for  the  important  guest,  the  con- 
sular personage.  On  the  couch  to  the  right 
recline  the  host,  the  hostess,  and  the  friend  of 
the  house.  The  other  guests  take  the  remaining 
places.  Then,  in  come  the  slaves  bearing  trays, 
which  they  put,  one  by  one,  upon  the  small  bronze 
table  with  the  marble  top  which  is  stationed  between 
the  three  couches  like  a  tripod.  Ah !  what  glowing 
descriptions  I  should  have  to  make  were  I  at 
the  house  of  Trimalcion  or  Lucullus!  I  should 
depict  to  you  the  winged  hares,  the  pullets  and 
fish  carved  in  pieces,  with  pork  meat ;  the  wild 
boar  served  up  whole  upon  an  enormous  platter 
and  stuffed  with  living  thrushes,  which  fly  out 
in  every  direction  when  the  boar's  stomach  is 
cut  open ;  the  side  dishes  of  birds'  tongues ;  of 
enormous  murence  or  eels;  barbel  caught  in  the 
Western  Ocean  and  stifled  in  salt  pickle;  surprises 


THE   DWELLINGS.  1G1 


of  all  kinds  for  the  guests,  such  as  sets  of  dishes 
descending  from  the  ceiling,  fantastic  apparitions, 
dancing  girls,  mountebanks,  gladiators,  trained  female 
athletes, — all  the  orgies,  in  fine,  of  those  strange  old 
times.  But  let  us  not  forget  where  we  really 
are.  Paratus  is  not  an  emperor,  and  has  to  confine 
himself  to  a  simple  citizen  repast,  quiet  and  unassu- 
ming throughout.  The  bill  of  fare  of  one  of  these 
suppers  has  been  preserved,  and  here  we  give  it 

First  Course. — Sea  urchins.  Raw  oysters  at  discre- 
tion. P  dor  ides  or  palourdes  (a  sort  of  shell-fish  now 
found  on  the  coasts  of  Poitou  in  France).  Thorny 
shelled  oysters;  larks;  a  hen  pullet  with  asparagus; 
stewed  oysters  and  mussels ;  white  and  black  sea-tulips. 

Second  Course. — Spondtdae,  a  variety  of  oyster; 
sweet  water  mussels;  sea  nettles;  becaficoes;  cut- 
lets of  kid  and  boar's  meat;  chicken  pie;  beca- 
ficoes again,  but  differently  prepared,  with  an  as- 
paragus sauce;  murex  and  purple  fish.  The  latter 
were   but  different  kinds  of  shell-fish. 

Third  Course.  —  The  teats  of  a  sow  au  naturel ; 
they  were  cut  as  soon  as  the  animal  had  littered ; 
wild  boar's   head   (this  was  the    main  dish) ;    sow's 


162  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 


teats  in  a  ragout;   the  breasts  and  necks  of  roas 
ducks;  fricasseed    wild    duck;    roast    hare,  a    great 
delicacy;  roasted  Phrygian  chickens;   starch  cream; 
cakes  from  Yicenza. 

All  this  was  washed  down  with  the  light  Pom- 
peian  wine,  which  was  not  bad,  and  could  be  kept 
for  ten  years,  if  boiled.  The  wine  of  Vesuvius, 
once  highly  esteemed,  has  lost  its  reputation,  owing 
to  the  concoctions  now  sold  to  travellers  under 
the  label  of  Lachrymal  Christi.  The  vintages  of 
the  volcano  must  have  been  more  honestly  pre- 
pared at  the  period  when  they  were  sung  by 
Martial.  Every  day  there  is  found  in  the  cellars 
of  Pompeii  some  short-necked,  full-bodied,  and  elon- 
gated amphora,  terminating  in  a  point  so  as  to 
stick  upright  in  the  ground,  and  nearly  all  are 
marked  with  an  inscription  stating  the  age  and 
origin  of  the  liquor  they  contained.  The  names 
of  the  consuls  usually  designated  the  year  of  the 
vintage.  The  further  back  the  consul,  the  more 
respectable  the  wine.  A  Poman,  in  the  days  of 
the  Empire,  having  been  asked  under  what  consul 
his    wine    dated,    boldly    replied,    "Under    none!" 


: 


THE   DWELLINGS.  103 

ereby  proclaiming  that  his  cellar  had  been  stocked 

der  the  earliest  kings  of  Eome. 
These  inscriptions  on  the  amphoros  make  ns 
acquainted  with  an  old  Yesuvian  wine  called  pica- 
tum,  or,  in  other  words,  with  a  taste  of  pitch; 
fundanum,  or  Fondi  wine,  much  esteemed,  and 
many  others.  In  fine,  let  ns  not  forget  the  famous 
growth  of  Falernus,  sung  by  the  poets,  which  did  not 
disappear  until  the  time  of  Theodoric. 

But  besides  the  amphorae,  how  much  other  testimony 
there  still  remains  of  the  olden  libations,  —  those 
rich  craterce,  or  broad,  shallow  goblets  of  bronze 
damascened  with  silver;  those  delicately  chiselled 
cups;  those  glasses  and  bottles  which  Vesuvius  has 
preserved  for  us;  that  jug,  the  handle  of  which  is 
formed  of  a  satyr  bending  backward  to  rub  his 
shoulders  against  the  edge  of  the  vase;  those  vessels 
of  all  shapes  on  which  eagles  perch  or  swans  and 
serpents  writhe ;  those  cups  of  baked  clay  adorned 
with  so  many  arabesques  and  inviting  descriptions. 
"  Friend,"  says  one  of  them  "  drink  of  my  contents." 

"Friend  of  my  soul,  this  goblet  sip ! " 
rhymes  the  modern  bard. 


164  THE  WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

What  a  mass  of  curious  and  costly  things !  "What 
is  the  use  of  rummaging  in  books!  With  the  mu- 
seums of  Naples  before  us,  we  can  reconstruct  all 
the  triclinia  of  Pompeii  at  a  glance. 

There,  then,  are  the  guests,  gay,  serene,  reclining 
or  leaning  on  their  elbows  on  the  three  couches. 
The  table  is  before  them,  but  only  to  be  looked  at, 
for  slaves  are  continually  moving  to  and  fro,  from 
one  to  the  other,  serving  every  guest  with  a 
portion  of  each  dish  on  a  slice  of  bread.  Pansa 
daintily  carries  the  delicate  morsel  offered  him  to 
his  mouth  with  his  fingers,  and  flings  the  bread 
under  the  table,  where  a  slave,  in  crouching  attitude, 
gathers  up  all  the  debris  of  the  repast.  No  forks  are 
used,  for  the  ancients  were  unacquainted  with 
them.  At  the  most,  they  knew  the  use  of  the  spoon 
or  cochlea,  which  they  employed  in  eating  eggs. 
After  each  dish  they  dipped  their  Angers  in  a  basin 
presented  to  them,  and  then  wiped  them  upon  a 
napkin  that  they  carried  with  them  as  we  take  our 
handkerchiefs  with  us.  The  wealthiest  people  had 
some  that  were  very  costly  and  which  they  threw 
into  the  fire  when  they  had  been  soiled;  the  fire 


THE  DWELLINGS.  165 


cleansed  without  burning  them.  Refined  people  wiped 
their  fingers  on  the  hair  of  the  cupbearers,  —  another 
Oriental  usage.  Recollect  Jesus  and  Mary  Mag- 
dalene. 

At  length,  the  repast  being  concluded,  the  guests 
took  off  their  wreaths,  which  they  stripped  of  their 
leaves  into  a  goblet  that  was  passed  around  the 
circle  for  every  one  to  taste,  and  this  ceremony 
concluded  the  libations. 

I  have  endeavored  to  describe  the  supper  of  a 
rich  Pompeian  and  exhibit  his  dwelling  as  it  would 
appear  reconstructed  and  re-occupied.  Reduce  its 
dimensions  and  simplify  it  as  much  as  possible  by 
suppressing  the  peristyle,  the  columns,  the  paintings, 
the  tablinum,  the  exedra,  and  all  the  rooms  devoted 
to  pleasure  or  vanity,  and  you  will  have  the  house 
of  a  poor  man./  On  the  contrary,  if  you  develop  it, 
by  enriching  it  beyond  measure,  you  may  build  in 
your  fancy  one  of  those  superb  Roman  palaces, 
the  extravagant  luxuriousness  of  which  augmented, 
from  day  to  day,  under  the  emperors.  Lucius 
Crassus,  who  was  the  first  to  introduce  columns  of 
foreign  marble,  in  his  dwelling,   erected  only  six  of 


166  TI1E   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

them  but  twelve  feet  liigli.  At  a  later  period, 
Marcus  Scaurus  surrounded  his  atrium  with  a  colon- 
nade of  black  marble  rising  thirty-eight  feet  above 
the  soil.  Mamurra  did  not  stop  at  so  fair  a  limit. 
That  distinguished  Roman  knight  covered  his  whole 
house  with  marble.  The  residence  of  Lepidus  was 
the  handsomest  in  Rome  seventy-eight  years  before 
Christ.  Thirty-five  years  later,  it  was  but  the  hun- 
dredth. In  spite  of  some  attempts  at  reaction  by 
Augustus,  this  passion  for  splendor  reached  a 
frantic  pitch.  A  freedman  in  the  reign  of  Claudius 
decorated  his  triclinium  with  thirty-two  columns 
of  onyx.  I  say  nothing  of  the  slaves  that  were 
counted  by  thousands  in  the  old  palaces,  and  by 
hundreds  in  the  triclinium   and  kitchen  alone. 

"  O  ye  beneficent  gods !  how  many  men  employed  to 
serve  a  single  stomach ! "  exclaimed  Seneca,  who  passed 
in  his  day  for  a  master  of  rhetoric.  In  our  time,  he 
would  be  deemed  a  socialist, 


Library, 


A 


I 


VII. 

ART    IN    POMPEII. 

The  Homes  of  the  Wealthy.  — The  Triangular  Forum  and  the  Temples.  — 
Pompeian  Architecture  :  Its  Merits  and  its  Defects.  — The  Artists  of 
the  Little  City. —The  Paintings  here,  —  Landscapes,  Figures,  Rope- 
dancers,  Dancing-girls,  Centaurs,  Gods,  Heroes,  the  Iliad  Illustrated.  — 
Mosaics.  —  Statues  and  Statuettes. — Jewelry. — Carved  Glass. — Art 
and  Life. 

The  house  of  Pansa  was  large,  but  not  much  orna- 
mented. There  are  others  which  are  shown  in  pref- 
erence to  the  visitor.  Let  us  mention  them  concisely 
tn  the  catalogue  and  inventory  style : 

The  house  of  the  Faun. — Fine  mosaics;  a  master- 
piece in  bronze;  the  Dancing  Faun,  of  which  we 
shall  speak  farther  on.  Besides  the  atrium  and  the 
peristyle,  a  third  court,  the  xysta,  surrounded  with  forty- 
four  columns,  duplicated  on  the  upper  story.  Number- 
less precious  tilings  were  found  there,  in  the  presence 
of  the  son  of  Goethe.  The  owrner  wras  a  wine-mer- 
chant. (?) 

The  house  of  the  Qusestor,  or  of  Castor  and  Pollux. 

(167) 


168  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

—  Large  safes  of  very  thick  and  very  hard  wood,  lined 
with  copper  and  ornamented  with  arabesques,  perhaps 
the  public  money-chests,  hence  this  was  probably  the 
residence  of  the  qusestor  who  had  charge  of  the 
public  funds;  a  Corinthian  atrium;  tine  paintings 
— the  Bacchante,  the  Medea,  the  Children  of  JViobe, 
etc.     Rich  development  of  the  courtyards. 

The  hou  se  of  the  Poet.  —  Homeric  paintings ;  celebra- 
ted mosaics ;  the  dog  at  the  doorsill,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion Cave  Canem;  the  Choragus  causing  the  recitation 
of  apiece.     All  these  are  at  the  museum. 

The  house  of  Sallust.  —  A  line  bronze  group ;  Hercu- 
les pursuing  a  deer  (taken  to  the  Museum  at  Palermo) ; 
a  pretty  stucco  relievo  in  one  of  the  bedchambers; 
Three  couches  of  masonry  in  the  triclinium;  a 
decent  and  modest  venereum  that  ladies  may  visit. 
There  is  seen  an  Acteon  surprising  Diana  in  the  bath, 
the  stag's  antlers  growing  on  his  forehead  and  the 
hounds  tearing  him.  The  two  scenes  connect  in  the 
same  picture,  as  in  the  paintings  of  the  middle  ages. 
Was  this  a  warning  to  rash  people  ?  This  venereum 
contained  a  bedchamber,  a  triclinium  and  a  lararium, 
or  small  marble  niche  in  which  the  household  god 
was  enshrined. 


AKT  DT  POMPEII.  169 

The  house  of  Marcus  Lucretius. — Yery  curious. 
A  peristyle  forming  a  sort  of  platform,  occupied  with 
baubles,  which  they  have  had  the  good  taste  to  leave 
there;  a  miniature  fountain,  little  tiers  of  seats,  a  small 
conduit,  a  small  fish-tank,  grotesque  little  figures  in 
bronze,  statuettes  and  images  of  all  sorts,  —  Bacchus 
and  Bacchantes,  Fauns  and  Satyrs,  one  of  which,  with 
its  arm  raised  above  its  head,  is  charming.  Another  in 
the  form  of  a  Hermes  holds  a  kid  in  its  arms;  the  she^ 
goat  trying  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her  little  one,  is  rais- 
ing her  fore-feet  as  though  to  clamber  up  on  the 
spoiler.  These  odds  and  ends  make  up  a  pretty 
collection  of  toys,  a  shelf,  as  it  were,  on  an  ancient 
what-not  of  knick-knacks. 

Then,  there  are  the  Adonis  and  the  Hermaphro- 
dite in  the  house  of  Adonis;  the  sacrarium  or  do- 
mestic chapel  in  the  house  of  the  Mosaic  Columns; 
the  wild  beasts  adorning  the  house  of  the  Hunt; 
above  all,  the  fresh  excavations,  where  the  paintings 
retain  their  undiminished  brilliance.  But  if  all 
these  houses  are  to  be  visited,  they  are  not  to  be 
described.     Antiquaries    dart    upon    this    prey    with 

frenzy,   measuring    the  tiniest  stone,   discussing  the 
15 


170  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

smallest  painting,  and  leaving  not  a  single  frieze 
or  panel  without  some  comment,  so  that,  after 
having  read  their  remarks,  one  fancies  that  every- 
thing is  precious  in  this  exhumed  curiosity-shop. 
These  folks  deceive  themselves  and  they  deceive 
us;  their  feelings  as  virtuosos  thoroughly  exhaust 
themselves  upon  a  theme  which  is  very  attractive, 
very  curious,  'tis  true,  but  which  calls  for  less  com- 
pletely scientific  hands  to  set  it  to  music,  the  more 
so  that  in  Pompeii  there  is  nothing  grand,  or 
massive,  or  difficult  to  comprehend.  Everything 
stands  right  forth  to  the  gaze  and  explains  itself 
as  clearly  and  sharply  as  the  light  of  day. 

Moreover,  these  houses  have  been  despoiled. 
I  might  tell  you  of  a  pretty  picture  or  a  rich  mosaic 
in  such-and-such  a  room.  You  would  go  thither 
to  look  for  it  and  not  find  it.  The  museum  at 
Naples  has  it,  and  if  it  be  not  there  it  is  nowhere. 
Time,  the  atmosphere,  and  the  sunlight  have  de- 
stroyed it.  Therefore,  those  who  make  out  an 
inventory  of  these  houses  for  you  are  preparing 
you  bitter  disappointments. 

The   only   way  to  get  an  idea  of  Pompeian  art 


ART   IN   POMPEII.  171 


is  not  to  examine  all  these  monuments  separately, 
but  to  group  them  in  one's  mind,  and  then  to  pay 
the  museum  an  attentive  visit.  Thus  we  can  put 
together  a  little  ideal  city,  an  artistic  Pompeii, 
which  we  are  going  to  make  the  attempt  to  explore. 
Pompeii  had  two  and  even  three  forums.  The 
third  was  a  market;  the  first,  with  which  you  are 
already  acquainted,  was  a  public  square;  the  other, 
which  we  are  about  to  visit,  is  a  sort  of  Acropolis, 
inclosed  like  that  of  Athens,  and  placed  upon  the 
highest  spot  of  ground  in  the  city.  From  a  bench, 
still  in  its  proper  position  at  the  extremity  of  this 
forum,  you  may  distinguish  the  valley  of  the  Sarno, 
the  shady  mountains  that  close  its  perspective, 
the  cultivated  checker- work  of  the  country  side, 
green  tufts  of  the  woodlands,  and  then  the 
gently  curving  coast-line  where  Stabia3  wound 
in  and  out,  with  the  picturesque  heights  of 
Sorrento,  the  deep  blue  of  the  sea,  the  transpar- 
ent azure  of  the  heavens,  the  infinite  limpidity  of 
the  distant  horizon,  the  brilliant  clearness  and 
the  antique  color.  Those  who  have  not  beheld 
this  scenery,  can  only  half   comprehend    its    monu- 


172  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

ments,  which  would  ever  be   out   of  place  beneath 
another  sky. 

It  was  in  this  bright  sunlight  that  the  Pompeian 
Acropolis,  the  triangular  Forum,  stood.  Eight  Ionic 
columns  adorned  its  entrance  and  sustained  a  por- 
tico of  the  purest  elegance,  from  which  ran  two  long 
slender  colonnades  widening  apart  from  each  other 
and  forming  an  acute  angle.  They  are  still  sur- 
mounted with  their  architrave,  which  they  lightly 
supported.  The  terrace,  looking  out  upon  the  country 
and  the  sea,  formed  the  third  side  of  the  triangle, 
in  the  middle  of  which  rose  some  altars,  —  the  us- 
trinum,  in  which  the  dead  were  burned,  a  small 
round  temple  covering  a  sacred  well,  and,  finally, 
a  Greek  temple  rising  above  all  the  rest  from  the 
height  of  its  foundation  and  marking  its  columns 
unobstructedly  against  the  sky.  This  platform,  rest- 
ing upon  solid  supports  and  covered  with  monu- 
ments in  a  fine  style  of  art,  was  the  best  written 
page  and  the  most  substantially  correct  one  in 
Pompeii.  Unfortunately,  here,  as  everywhere  else, 
stucco  had  been  plastered  over  the  stone-work.  The 
columns  were  painted.    Nowhere  could  a  front  of 


akt  m  POMPEII.  173 


pure    marble — the    white    on    the    blue — be    seen 
denned  against  the  sky. 

The  remaining    temples  furnish  us  few   data   on 

I  architecture.  You  know  those  of  the  Forum.  The 
temple  of  Fortune,  now  greatly  dilapidated,  must  have 
resembled  that  of  Jupiter.  Erected  by  Marcus  Tul- 
lius,  a  reputed  relative  of  Cicero,  it  yields  us  nothing 
but  very  mediocre  statues  and  inscriptions  full  of 
errors,  proving  that  the  priesthood  of  the  place,  by  no 

|  means  Ciceronian  in  their  acquirements,  did  not 
thoroughly  know  even  their  own  language.  The  tem- 
ple of  Esculapius,  besides  its  altar,  has  retained  a 
very  odd  capital,  Corinthian  if  you  will,  but  on  which 
cabbage  leaves,  instead  of  the  acanthus,  are  seen  en- 
veloping a  head  of  Neptune.  The  temple  of  Isis, 
still  standing,  is  more  curious  than  handsome.  It 
shows  *  that  the  Egyptian  goddess  was  venerated  at 
Pompeii,  but  it  tells  us  nothing  about  antique  art.  It 
is  entered  at  the  side,  by  a  sort  of  corridor  leading 
into  the  sacred  inclosure.  The  temple  is  on  the  right ; 
the  columns  inclose  it ;  a  vaulted  niche  is  hollowed  out 
beneath  the  altar,  where  it  served  as  a  hiding-place  for 

the  priests,  —  at  least  so  say  the  romance-writers.     Uh- 
[*  See  note  on  page  198.] 


174  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

fortunately  for  this  idea,  the  doorway  of  the  recess 
stood  forth  and  still  stands  forth  to  the  gaze,  render- ' 
ing  the  alleged  trickery  impossible. 

Behind  the  cell  a,  another  niche  contained  a  statue 
of  Bacchus,  who  was,  perhaps,  the  same  god  as  Osiris. 
An  expurgation  room,  intended  for  ablutions  and  puri- 
fications, descending  to  a  subterranean  reservoir, 
occupied  an  angle  of  the  courtyard.  In  front  of  this 
apartment  stands  an  altar,  on  which  were  found  some 
remnants  of  sacrifices.  Isis,  then,  was  the  only  divinity 
invoked  at  the  moment  of  the  eruption.  Her  painted 
statue  held  a  cross  with  a  handle  to  it,  in  one  hand, 
and  a  cithera  in  the  other,  and  her  hair  fell  in  long 
and  carefully  curled  ringlets. 

This  is  all  that  the  temples  give  us.  Artistically 
speaking,  it  is  but  little.  Neither  are  the  other 
monuments  much  richer  in  their  information  con- 
cerning ancient  architecture.  They  let  us  know  that 
the  material  chiefly  employed  consisted  of  lava,  of 
tufa,  of  brick,  excellently  prepared,  having  more  sur- 
face and  less  thickness  than  ours ;  of  p&perino  (Sarno 
stone),  which  time  renders  very  hard,  sometimes  with 
travertine  and  even  marble  in  the  ornaments;   then 


AUT  m  POMPEII  175 

there  was  Roman  mortar,  celebrated  for  its  solidity, 
less  perfect  at  Pompeii,  however,  than  at  Rome ;  and 
finally,  the  stucco  surface,  covering  the  entire  city  with 
its  smooth  and  polished  crust,  like  a  variegated  man- 
tle. But  these  edifices  tell  us  nothing  in  particular ; 
there  is  neither  a  style  peculiar  to  Pompeii  discern  i- 
ble  in  them,  nor  do  we  find  artists  of  the  place  bearing 
any  noted  name,  or  possessing  any  singularity  of  taste 
and  method.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  an  easy 
eclecticism  that  adopts  all  forms  with  equal  facility  and 
betrays  the  decadence  or  the  sterility  of  the  time.  I 
recall  the  fact  that  the  city  was  in  process  of  reconstruc- 
tion when  it  was  destroyed.  Its  unskilful  repairs  dis- 
close a  certain  predilection  for  that  cheap  kind  of 
elegance  which  among  us,  has  taken  the  place  of  art. 
Stucco  tricks  off  and  disfigures  everything.  Reality  is 
sacrificed  to  appearance,  and  genuine  elegance  to  that 
kind  of  showy  avarice  which  assumes  a  false  look  of 
profusion.  In  many  places,  the  fiutings  are  economi- 
cally preserved  by  means  of  moulds  that  fill  them  in 
the  lower  part  of  the  columns.  Painting  takes  the 
place  of  sculpture  at  every  point  where  it  can  supply 
it.     The  capitals  affect  odd  shapes,  sometimes  success- 


170  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

fully,  but  always  at  variance  witli  the  simplicity  off 
high  art.  Add  to  these  objections  other  faults,  glaring 
at  first  glance,  —  for  instance,  the  adornment  of  the 
temple  of  Mercury,  where  the  panels  terminate  alter- 
nately in  pediments  and  in  arcades;  the  facade  of 
the  purgatorium  in  the  temple  of  Isis,  where  the 
arcade  itself  cutting  the  cornice,  becomes  involved 
hideously  with  the  pediment.  I  shall  say  nothing 
cither,  of  the  fountains,  or  of  the  columns,  alas! 
formed  of  shell-work  and  mosaic. 

Faults  like  these  shock  the  eye  of  purists;  but 
let  us  constantly  bear  in  mind  that  we  arc  in  a 
small  city,  the  finest  residence  in  which  belonged 
to  a  wine-merchant.  We  could  not  with  fairness 
expect  to  find  there  the  Parthenon,  or  even  the 
Pantheon  of  Pome.  The  Pompeian  architects 
worked  for  simple  burghers  whose  moderate  wish 
was  to  own  pretty  houses,  not  too  large  nor  too 
dear,  but  of  rich  external  appearance  and  a  gayety 
of  look  that  gratified  the  eye.  These  good  trades- 
men were  served  to  their  hearts'  content  by  skil- 
ful persons  who  turned  everything  to  good  account, 
cutting  rooms  by  scores  within  a  space  that  would 


AKT  IN  POMPEII.  177 

lot  be  sufficient  for  one  large  saloon  in  our  palaces, 
profiting  by  all  the  accidents  of  the  soil  to  raise 
their  structures  by  stories  into  amphitheatres,  de- 
vising one  ingenious  subterfuge  after  another  to 
mask  the  defects  of  alignment,  and,  in  a  word, 
with  feeble  resources  and  narrow  means,  realizing 
what  the  ancients  always  dreamed  —  art  combined 
with  every-day  life. 

For  proof  of  this  I  point  to  their  paintings 
covering  those  handsome  stucco  walls,  which  were 
so  carefully  prepared,  so  frequently  overlaid  with 
the  finest  mortar,  so  ingeniously  dashed  with  shin- 
ing powder,  and,  then,  so  often  smoothed,  repol- 
ished  and  repacked  with  wooden  rollers  that  they, 
at  last,  looked  like  and  passed  for  marble.  Whether 
painted  in  fresco  or  dry,  in  encaustic  or  by  other 
processes,  matters  little — that  belongs  to  technical 
authorities  to  decide.* 


*  The  learned  Minervini  has  remarked  certain  differences  in 
the  washes  put  on  the  Pompeian  walls.  He  has  indicated  finer 
ones  with  which,  according  to  him,  the  ancients  painted  in  fresco 
their  more  studied  compositions,  landscapes,  and  figures,  while 
ordinary  decorations  were  painted  dry  by  inferior  painters.  I 
recall,  the  fact,  as  I  pass  on,  that  several  paintings,  particularly  the 


178  THE   WONDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

However  that  may  be,  these  mural  decorations 
were  nevertheless  a  feast  for  the  eyes,  and  are  so 
still.  They  divided  the  walls  into  five  or  six  panels, 
developing  themselves  between  a  socle  and  a  frieze; 
the  socle  being  deeper,  the  frieze  clearer  in  tint,  the 
interspace  of  a  more  vivid  red  and  yellow,  for  in- 
stance, while  the  frieze  was  white  and  the  socle 
black.  In  plain  houses  these  single  panels  were  di- 
vided by  simple  lines;  then  gradually,  as  the  house 
selected  became  more  opulent,  these  lines  were  re- 
placed by  ornamental  frames,  garlands,  pilasters,  and, 
ere  long,  fantastic  pavilions,  in  which  the  fancy  of  the 
decorative  artist  disported  at  will.  However,  the 
socles  became  covered  with  foliage,  the  friezes  with 
arabesques,  and  the  panels  with  paintings,  the  latter 


most  important,  were  detached,  but  secured  to  the  wall  with 
iron  clamps.  It  has  ever  been  noticed  that  the  back  of  these 
pictures  did  not  adhere  to  the  walls — an  excellent  precaution 
against  dampness.  This  custom  of  sawing  off  and  shifting  mural 
paintings  was  very  ancient.  It  is  known  that  the  wealthy  Romans 
adorned  their  houses  with  works  of  art  borrowed  or  stolen  from 
Greece,  and  all  will  remember  the  famous  contract  of  Mummius, 
who,  in  arranging  with  some  merchants  to  convey  to  Rome  the  mas- 
terpieces of  Zeuxis  and  Apelles,  stipulated  that  if  they  should  be 
lost  or  damaged  on  the  way,  the  merchants  should  replace  them  at 
their  own  expense. 


ART  IN  POMPEII.  179 


scape ;  pretty  soon  a  figure,  then  a  group,  then  at  last 
great  historical  or  religious  subjects  that  sometimes 
covered  a  whole  piece  of  wall  and  to  which  the  socle 
and  the  frieze  served  as  a  sort  of  showy  and  majestic 
framework.  Thus,  the  fancy  of  the  decorator  could 
rise  even  to  the  height  of  epic  art. 

Those  paintings  will  be  eternally  studied :  they  give 
us  precious  data,  not  only  on  art,  but  concerning  ev- 
erything that  relates  to  antiquity, — its  manners  and  cus- 
toms, its  ceremonies,  its  costumes,"  the  homes  of  those 
days,  the  elements  and  nature  as  they  then  appeared. 
Pompeii  is  not  a  gallery  of  pictures ;  it  is  rather  an  il- 
lustrated journal  of  the  first  century.  One  there  sees 
odd  landscapes ;  a  little  island  on  the  edge  of  the  wa- 
ter;  a  bank  of  the  Nile  where  an  ass,  stooping  to  drink, 
bends  toward  the  open  jaws  of  a  crocodile  which  he 
does  not  see,  while  his  master  frantically  but  vainly 
endeavors  to  pull  him  back  by  the  tail.  These 
pieces  nearly  always  consist  of  rocks  on  the  edge  of 
the  water,  sometimes  interspersed  with  trees,  some- 
times covered  with  ranges  of  temples,  sometimes 
stretching    away   in    rugged    solitudes,  where    some 


180  THE   WONDERS   OF  POMPEII. 

shepherd  wanders  astray  with  his  flock,  or  from  time 
to  time,  enlivened  with  a  historical  scene  (Andro- 
meda and  Persens).  Then  come  little  pictures  of  in- 
animate nature,  —  baskets  of  fruit,  vases  of  flowers, 
household  utensils,  bunches  of  vegetables,  the  collec- 
tion of  office-furniture  painted  in  the  house  of  Lucre- 
tius (the  inkstand,  the  stylus,  the  paper-knife,  the  tab- 
lets, and  a  letter  folded  in  the  shape  of  a  napkin  with 
the  address,  "To  Marcus  Aurelius,  flamen  of  Mars,  and 
decurion  of  Pompeii").  Sometimes  these  paintings 
have  a  smack  of  humor;  there  are  two  that  go  to- 
gether on  the  same  wall.  One  of  them  shows  a  cock 
and  a  hen  strolling  about  full  of  life,  while  upon  the 
other  the  cock  is  in  durance  vile,  with  his  legs  tied 
and  looking  most  doleful  indeed:  his  hour  has 
come ! 

I  say  nothing  of  the  bouquets  in  which  lilies,  the 
iris,  and  roses  predominate,  nor  of  the  festoons,  the  gar- 
lands, nay,  the  whole  thickets  that  adorn  the  walls  of 
Sallust's  garden.  Let  me  here  merely  point  out 
the  pictures  of  animals,  the  hunting  scenes,  and  the 
combats  of  wild  beasts,  treated  with  such  astonishing 
vigor  and  raciness.      There    is  one,  especially,  still 


ART   IN  POMPEII.  181 

quite  fresh  and  still  in  its  place,  in  one  of  the  houses 
recently  discovered.  It  represents  a  wild  boar  rush- 
ing headlong  upon  a  bear,  in  the  presence  of  a  lion, 
who  looks  on  at  him  with  the  most  superb  indiffer- 
ence. It  is  divined,  as  the  Neapolitans  say;  that  is, 
the  painter  has  intuitively  conceived  the  feelings  of  the 
two  animals;  the  one  blind  with  reckless  fury,  the 
other  supremely  confident  in  his  own  agility  and  su- 
perior strength. 

And  now  I  come  to  the  human  form.  Here  we 
have  endless  variety ;  and  all  kinds,  from  the  carica- 
ture to  the  epic  effort,  are  attempted  and  exhausted,  — 
the  wagon  laden  with  an  enormous  goat-skin  full  of 
wine,  which  slaves  are  busily  putting  into  amphorae; 
a  child  making  an  ape  dance;  a  painter  copying  a 
Hermes  of  Bacchus;  a  pensive  damsel  probably 
about  to  dispatch  a  secret  message  by  the  buxom  ser- 
vant-maid waiting  there  for  it;  a  vendor  of  Cupids 
opening  his  cage  full  of  little  winged  gods,  who,  as 
they  escape,  tease  a  sad  and  pensive  woman  standing 
near,  in  a  thousand  ways,  —  how  many  different  sub- 
jects !     But  I  have  said  nothing  yet.     The  Pompeians 

especially  excelled  in  fancy  pictures.     Everybody  has 
16 


182  THE   WONDERS    OF    POMPEII. 

seen  those  swarms  of  little  genii  that,  fluttering  down 
upon  the  walls  of  their  houses,  wove  crowns  or  gar- 
lands, angled  with  the  rod  and  line,  chased  birds, 
sawed  planks,  planed  tables,  raced  in  chariots,  or 
danced  on  the  tight-rope,  holding  up  thyrses  for  bal 
ancing  poles ;  one  bent  over,  another  kneeling,  a  third 
making  a  jet  of  wine  spirt  forth  from  a  horn  into  a 
vase,  a  fourth  playing  on  the  lyre,  and  a  fifth  on  the 
double  flute,  without  leaving  the  tight-rope  that  bends 
beneath  their  nimble  feet.  But  more  beautiful  than 
these  divine  rope-dancers  were  the  female  dancers, 
who  floated  about,  perfect  prodigies  of  pelf -possession 
and  buoyancy,  rising  of  themselves  from  the  ground 
and  sustained  without  an  effort  in  the  voluptuous  air 
that  cradled  them.  You  may  see  these  all  at  the  mu- 
seum in  Naples, — the  nymph  who  clashes  the  cymbals, 
and  one  who  drums  the  tambourine;  another  who 
holds  aloft  a  branch  of  cedar  and  a  golden  sceptre ; 
one  who  is  handing  a  plate  of  figs;  and  her,  too 
who  has  a  basket  on  her  head  and  a  thyrsis  in  her 
hand.  Another  in  dancing  uncovers  her  neck  and 
her  shoulders,  and  a  third,  with  her  head  thrown 
back,  and  her  eyes  uplifted  to  heaven,  inflates  her 


ART  IN    POMPEII.  183 

Al  as  though  to  fly  away.  Here  is  one  dropping 
inches  of  flowers  in  a  fold  of  her  robe,  and  there 
lother  who  holds  a  golden  plate  in  this  hand,  while 
ith  that  she  covers  her  brows  with  an  undulating 
illium,    like     a    bird    putting    its    head    under    its 


wing. 


There  are  some  almost  nude,  and  some  that  drape 

temselves  in  tissues  quite  transparent  and  woven  of 
e  air.  Some  again  wrap  themselves  in  thick  man- 
tles which  cover  them  completely,  but  which  are  about 
to  fall ;  two  of  them  holding  each  other  by  the  hand 
are  going  to  float  upward  together.  As  many  dancing 
nymphs  as  there  are,  so  many  are  the  different  dances, 
attitudes,  movements,  undulations,  characteristics,  and 
dissimilar  ways  of  removing  and  putting  on  veils; 
infinite  variations,  in  fine,  upon  two  notes  that  vibrate 
with  voluptuous  luxuriance,  and  in  a  thousand 
ways. 

Let  us  continue :  We  are  sweeping  into  the  full  tide 
of  mythology.  All  the  ancient  divinities  will  pass 
before  us, — now  isolated  (like  the  fine,  nay,  truly 
imposing  Ceres  in  the  house  of  Castor  and  Pollux), 
now  grouped  in  well-known   scenes,  some   of  which 


184:  THE   WONDEES    OF   POMPEn. 

often  recur  on  the  Pompeian  walls.  Thus,  the  educa 
tion  of  Bacchus,  his  relations  with  Silenns;  the  roman 
tic  story  of  Ariadne ;  the  loves  of  Jupiter,  Apollo,  and 
Daphne;  Mars  and  Venus;  Adonis  dying;  Zephyr 
and  Flora;  but,  above  all,  the  heroes  of  renown, 
Theseus  and  Andromeda,  Meleager,  Jason,  heads 
of  Hercules;  his  twelve  labors,  his  combat  with 
the  Nemsean  lion,  his  weaknesses,  —  such  are  the 
episodes  most  in  favor  with  the  decorative  artists 
of  the  little  city.  Sometimes  they  take  their  sub- 
jects from  the  poems  of  Virgil,  but  often er  from 
those  of  Homer.  I  might  cite  a  whole  house,  viz.,  that 
of  the  Poet,  also  styled  the  Homeric  House,  the 
interior  court  of  which  was  a  complete  Iliad  illus- 
trated. There  you  could  see  the  parting  of  Aga- 
memnon and  Chryseis,  and  also  that  of  Briseis  and 
Achilles,  who,  seated  on  a  throne,  with  a  look  of  angry 
resignation,  is  requesting  the  young  girl  to  return  to 
Agamemnon — a  fine  picture,  of  deserved  celebrity. 
There,  too,  was  beheld  the  lovely  Yenus  which  Gell 
has  not  hesitated  to  compare,  as  to  form,  with  the 
Medicean  statue,  or  for  color,  to  Titian's  painting.  It 
will  be  remembered  that  she  plays  a  conspicuous  part 


Exedra  of  the  House  of  Sirieus. 


til 


AET  IN  POMPEII.  185 

the  poem.  A  little  further  on  we  see  Jupiter  and 
o  meeting  on  Mount  Ida. 

"At  length"  says  Mcolini,  in  his  sumptuous  work 
on  Pompeii,  "in  the  natural  sequence  of  these  episodes, 
appears  Thetis  reclining  on  the  Triton,  and  holding 
forth  to  her  afflicted  son  the  arms  that  Vulcan  had 
forged  for  him  in  her  presence. " 

It  was  in  the  peristyle  of  this  house  that  the  copy  of 

e  famous  picture  by  Timanthius  of  the  sacrifice  of 
Iphigenia  wss  found.  "  Having  represented  her  stand- 
ing near  the  altar  on  which  she  is  to  perish,  the  art- 
ist depicts  profound  grief  on  the  faces  of  those  who 
are  present,  especially  of  Menelaus;  then,  having 
exhausted  all  the  the  symbols  of  sorrow,  he  veils  the 
father's  countenance,  finding  it  impossible  to  give 
a  befitting  expression. "  This  was,  according  to  Pliny, 
the  work  of  Timanthus,  and  such  is  exactly  the 
reproduction  of  it  as  it  was  found  in  the  house  of  the 
poet  at  Pompeii. 

This    Iphigenia   and  the  Medea  in  the  house  of 

Castor  and  Pollux,  recalling  the  masterpiece  of  Tim- 

omachos  the  Byzantine  are  the    only  two    Pompeian 

pictures     which     reproduce    well-known    paintings; 
10* 


186  THE   WONDERS   OF   rOMPEII. 

but  let  us  not,  for  that  reason,  conclude  that 
the  others  are  original.  The  painters  of  the  little 
city  were  neither  creators  nor  copyists,  but  very  free 
imitators,  varying  familiar  subjects  to  suit  themselves. 
Hence,  that  variety  which  surprises  us  in  their  repro- 
ductions of  the  same  subject.  Indeed,  I  have  seen, 
at  least  ten  Ariadnes  surprised  by  Bacchus,  and  there 
are  no  two  alike.  Hence,  also,  that  ease  and  freedom  of 
touch  indicating  that  the  decorative  artists  executing 
them  felt  quite  at  their  ease.  Assuredly,  their  efforts, 
which  are  of  quite  unequal  merit,  are  not  models  of 
correctness  by  any  means;  faults  of  drawing  and  pro- 
portion, traits  of  awkardness  and  heedlessness,  swarm 
in  them;  but  let  anybody  pick  out  a  sub-prefecture  of 
30,000  inhabitants,  in  France,  and  say  to  the  painters 
of  the  district:  "Here,  my  good  friends,  just  goto 
work  and  tear  off  those  sheets  of  colored  paper  that 
you  find  pasted  upon  the  walls  of  rooms  and  saloons 
in  every  direction,  and  paint  there  in  place  of  them 
socles  and  friezes,  devotional  images,  genre  pictures, 
and  historical  pieces  summing  up  the  ideas,  creeds, 
manners  and  tastes,  of  our  time  in  such  sort  that  were 
the  Pyrenees,  the  Cevennes,  or  the  Jura  Alps,  to  crum- 


art  m  POMPEII.  187 

ble  upon  you  to-morrow,  future  generations,  on  dig- 
ging up  your  houses  and  your  masterpieces,  might  there 
study  the  life  of  our  period  although  it  will  be  anti- 
quity for  them. "  .  .  .  What  would  the  painters 
of  the  place  be  apt  to  do  or  say  %  I  think  I  may  reply, 
with  all  respect  to  them,  that  they  would  at  least  be 
greatly  embarrassed. 

But,  on  their  part,  the  Pompeians  were  not  a  whit 
put  out  when  they  came  to  repaint  their  whole  city 
afresh.  Would  you  like  to  get  an  accurate  idea  of 
their  real  merit  and  their  indisputable  value  ?  If  so, 
ask  some  one  to  conduct  you  through  the  houses  that 
have  been  lately  exhumed,  and  look  at  the  paintings 
still  left  in  their  places  as  they  appear  with  all  the 
brilliance  that  Vesuvius  has  preserved  in  them,  and 
which  the  sunlight  will  soon  impair.  In  the  saloon  of 
the  house  of  Proculus  notice  two  pieces  that  corres- 
pond, namely,  Narcissus  and  the  Triumph  of  Bac- 
chus —  powerless  languor  and  victorious  activity.  The 
intended  meaning  is  clearly  apparent,  and  is  simply 
and  vividly  rendered.  The  ancients  never  required 
commentators  to  make  them  understood.  You  com- 
prehend their  idea  and  their  subject  at   iirst  glance. 


188  THE   WONDEKS    OF  POMPEII. 


The  most  ignorant  of  men  and  the  least  versed  in 
Pagan  lore,  take  their  meaning  with  half  a  look  andl 
give  their  works  a  title.  In  them  we  find  no  beating  • 
about  the  bush,  no  circumlocntioD,  no  hidden  mean- 
ings, no  confusion;  the  painter  expresses  what  he 
means,  does  it  quickly  and  does  it  well,  without  exag- 
gerating his  terms  or  overloading  the  scene.  His 
principal  personages  stand  out  boldly,  yet  the  accesso- 
ries do  not  cry  aloud,  "  Look  at  me ! "  The  picture  of 
Narcissus  represents  Narcissus  first  and  foremost; 
then  it  brings  in  a  solitude  and  a  streamlet.  The 
coloring  has  a  brilliance  and  harmoniousness  of  tint 
that  surprises  us,  but  there  are  no  useless  effects  in  it. 
In  nearly  all  these  frescoes  (excepting  the  wedding  of 
Zephyrus  and  Flora)  the  light  spreads  over  it,  white 
and  equable  (no  one  says  cold  and  monotonous),  for  its 
ofiice  is  not  merely  to  illuminate  the  picture,  but  to 
throw  sufficient  glow  and  warmth  upon  the  wall. 
The  low  and  narrow  rooms  having,  instead  of  windows, 
only  a  door  opening  on  the  court,  had  need  of  this 
painted  daylight  which  skilful  pencils  wrought 
for   them.     And  what    movement    there   was  in  all 


affltollffi 


Exe.h-a  of  the  House  of  Siricus  (See  p.  195). 


AET  m  POMPEH.  189 


those  figures,  what  suppleness  and  what  truth  to 
nature !  * 

Nothing  is  distorted,  nothing  attitudinizes.  Ari- 
adne is  really  asleep,  and  Hercules,  in  wine,  really 
sinks  to  the  ground ;  the  dancing  girl  floats  in  the  air 
as  though  in  her  native  element ;  the  centaur  gallops 
without  an  effort;  it  is  simple  reality  —  the  very  re- 
verse of  realism  —  nature  such  as  she  actually  is  when 
she  is  pleasant  to  behold,  in  the  full  effusion  of  her 
grace,  advancing  like  a  queen  because  she  is  a  queen, 
and  because  she  could  not  move  in  any  other  fashion. 
In  a  word,  these  second-rate  painters,  poor  daubers  of 
walls  as  they  were,  had,  in  the  absence  of  scientific 
skill  and  correctness,  the  flash  of  latent  genius  in 
obscurity,  the  instinct  of  art,  spontaneousness,  freedom 
of  touch,  and  vivid  life. 

Such  were  the  walls  of  Pompeii.  Let  us  now 
glance  at  the  pavements.  They  will  astonish  us  much 
more.     At  the  outset  the  pavements  were  quite  plain. 


*  "And  how  the  ancients,  even  the  most  unskilful,  understood, 
the  right  treatment  of  nude  subjects ! "  said  an  eminent  critic  to 
me,  one  day,  as  he  was  with  me  admiring  these  pictures;  "and," 
he  added,  "we  know  nothing  more  about  it  now;  our  statues  are 
not  nude,  but  undressed." 


190  THE   WONDEES  OF   POMPEII, 

There  was  a  cement  formed  of  a  kind  of  mortar ;  this  • 
was  then  thoroughly  dnsted  with  pulverized  brickr 
and  the  whole  converted  into  a  composition,  which,, 
when  it  had  hardened,  was  like  red  granite.  Many 
rooms  and  courts  at  Pompeii  are  paved  with  this  com- 
position which  was  called  opus  signinum.  Then,  in 
this  crust,  they  at  first  ranged  small  cubes  of  marble, 
of  glass,  of  calcareous  stone,  of  colored  enamel,  form- 
ing squares  or  stripes,  then  others  complicating  the- 
lines  or  varying  the  colors,  and  others  again  tracing 
regular  designs,  meandering  lines,  and  arabesques, 
until  the  divided  pebbles  at  length  completely  cov- 
ered the  reddish  basis,  and  thus  they  finally  became 
mosaics,  those  carpetings  of  stone  which  soon  rose  to 
the  importance  and  value  of  great  works  of  art. 

The  house  of  the  Faun  at  Pompeii,  which  is  the 
most  richly  paved  of  all,  was  a  museum  of  mosaics. 
There  was  one  before  the  door,  upon  the  sidewalk,  in- 
scribed with  the  ancient  salutation,  Salve!  Another, 
at  the  end  of  the  prothyrum,  artistically  represented 
masks.  Others  again,  in  the  wings  of  the  atrium,  made 
up  a  little  menagerie,  —  a  brace  of  ducks,  dead  birds, 
shell-work,  fish,  doves  taking  pearls  from  a  casket, 


ART   IN  POMPEII.  191 


and  a  cat  devouring  a  quail  —  a  perfect  master- 
piece of  living  movement  and  precision.  Pliny  men- 
tions a  house,  the  flooring  of  which  represented  the 
fragments  of  a  meal :  it  was  called  the  ill-swept  house. 
But  let  us  not  quit  the  house  of  the  Faun,  where  the 
mosaic-workers  had,  besides  what  we  have  told, 
wrought  on  the  pavement  of  the  cecus  a  superb  lion 
foreshortened  —  much  worn  away,  indeed,  but  marvel- 
lous for  vigor  and  boldness.  In  the  triclinium  another 
mosaic  represented  Acratus,  the  Bacchic  genius, 
astride  of  a  panther ;  lastly  the  piece  in  the  exsedra, 
the  finest  that  exists,  is  counted  among  the  most 
precious  specimens  of  ancient  art.  It  is  the  famous 
battle  of  Arbelles  or  of  Issus.  A  squadron  of  Greeks, 
already  victorious,  is  rushing  upon  the  Persians ;  Alex- 
ander is  galloping  at  the  head  of  his  cavalry.  He  has 
lost  his  helmet  in  the  heat  of  the  charge,  his  horses' 
manes  stand  erect,  and  his  long  spear  has  pierced  the 
leader  of  the  enemy.  The  Persians,  overthrown  and 
routed,  are  turning  to  flee ;  those  who  immediately 
surround  Darius,  the  vanquished  king,  think  of  noth- 
ing but  their  own  safety ;  but  Darius  is  totally  forget- 
ful of  himself.    His  hand  extended  toward  his  dying 


192  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

general,  lie  turns  his  back  to  the  flying  rabble  and 
seems  to  invite  death.  The  whole  scene  —  the  head- 
long rush  of  the  one  army,  the  utter  confusion  of  the 
other,  the  chariot  of  the  King  wheeling  to  the  front, 
the  rage,  the  terror,  the  pity  expressed,  and  all  this 
profoundly  felt  and  clearly  rendered  —  strikes  the 
beholder  at  first  glance  and  engraves  itself  upon  his 
memory,  leaving  there  the  imperishable  impression 
that  masterpieces  in  art  can  alone  produce.  And  yet 
this  wonderful  work  was  but  the  flooring  of  a  saloon ! 
The  ancients  put  their  feet  where  we  put  our  hands, 
says  an  Englishman  who  utters  but  the  simple  truth. 
The  finest  tables  in  the  palaces  at  Naples  were  cut 
from  the  pavements  in  the  houses  at  Pompeii. 

It  was  in  the  same  dwelling  that  the  celebrated 
bronze  statuette  of  the  Dancing  Faun  was  found.  It 
has  its  head  and  arms  uplifted,  its  shoulders  thrown 
back,  its  breast  projecting,  every  muscle  in  motion, 
the  whole  body  dancing.  An  accompanying  piece, 
however,  was  lacking  to  this  little  deity  so  full  of 
spring  and  vigor,  and  that  piece  has  been  exhumed  by 
recent  excavations,  in  quite  an  humble  tenement.  It 
represents  a  delicate  youth,  full  of  nonchalance  and 


AET  IN  POMPEII.  193 

grace,  a  Narcissus  hearkening  to  the  musical  echo  in 
the  distance.  His  head  leans  over,  his  ear  is  stretched 
to  listen,  his  finger  is  turned  in  the  direction  whence 
he  hears  the  sound  —  his  whole  body  listens.  Placed 
near  each  other  in  the  museum,  these  two  bronzes 
would  make  Pagans  of  us  were  religion  but  an  affair 
of  art.* 

Then  the  mere  wine-merchants  of  a  little  ancient 
city  adorned  their  fountains  with  treasures  like  these ! 
Others  have  been  found,  less  precious,  perhaps,  but 
charming,  nevertheless;  the  fisherman  in  sitting  pos- 
ture at  the  small  mosaic  fountain;  the  group  repre- 
senting Hercules  holding  a  stag  bent  over  his  knee ; 
a  diminutive  Apollo  leaning,  lyre  in  hand,  against 
a  pillar;  an  aged  Silenus  carrying  a  goat-skin  of 
wine ;  a  pretty  Yenus  arranging  her  moistened  tresses ; 
a  hunting  Diana,  etc. ;  without  counting  the  Hermes 
and  the  double  busts,  one  among  the  rest  comprising 
the  two  heads  of  a  male  and  female  Faun  full  of 
intemperance  and  coarse  gayety.  'Tis  true  that 
everything   is  not  perfect  in  these  sculptures,  par- 

*  Recently,  Signer  Fiorelli  has  found  another  bronze  statuette  of 
i  a  bent  and  crooked  Silenus  worth  both  the  others. 
17 


194  THE  WONDERS    OF    POMPEII. 

ticularly  in  the  marbles.  The  statues  of  Livia,  of' 
Drusus,  and  of  Eumachia,  are  but  moderately  good; 
those  discovered  in  the  temples,  such  as  Isis,  Bacchus, 
Venus,  etc.,  have  not  come  down  from  the  Parthenon.. 
The  decline  of  taste  makes  itself  apparent  in  the 
latest  ornamentation  of  the  tombs  and  edifices,  andi 
the  decorative  work  of  the  houses,  the  marble  em- 
bellishments; and,  above  all,  those  executed  in  stucco 
become  overladen  and  tawdry,  heavy  and  labored, 
toward  the  last.  Nevertheless,  they  reveal,  if  not 
a  great  aesthetic  feeling,  at  least  that  yearning  for 
elegance  which  entered  so  profoundly  into  the  man- 
ners of  the  ancients.  "With  us,  in  fine,  art  is  never 
anything  but  a  superfluity — something  unfamiliar 
and  foreign  that  comes  in  to  us  from  the  outside 
when  we  are  wealthy.  Our  paintings  and  our 
sculptures  do  not  make  part  and  parcel  of  our 
houses.  If  we  have  a  Yenus  of  Milo  on  our  mantel- 
clock,  it  is  not  because  we  worship  beauty,  nor  that, 
to  our  view,  there  is  the  slightest  connection 
between  the  mother  of  the  Graces  and  the  hour  of 
the  day.    Yenus  finds  herself  very  much  out  of  her 


ART   IN  POMPEII.  195 

element  there;  she  is  in  exile,  evidently.  On  the 
other  hand,  at  Pompeii  she  is  at  home,  as  Saint 
Genevieve  once  was  at  Paris,  as  Saint  Januarius 
still  is  at  Naples.  She  was  the  venerated  patroness 
whose  protection  they  invoked,  whose  anger  they 
feared.  "May  the  wrath  of  the  angry  Pompeian 
Venus  fall  upon  him!"  was  their  form  of  impre- 
cation. All  these  well-known  stories  of  gods  and 
demigods  who  throned  it  on  the  walls,  were  the 
fairy  talcs,  the  holy  legends,  the  thousand-times- 
repeated  narratives  that  delighted  the  Pompeians. 
They  had  no  need  of  explanatory  programmes  when 
they  entered  their  domestic  museums.  To  find  some- 
thing resembling  this  state  of  things,  we  should  have 
to  go  into  our  country  districts  where  there  still 
reigns  a  divinity  of  other  days — Glory — and  ad- 
miringly observe  with  what  religious  devotion  coarse 
lithographs  of  the  "Old  Flag,"  and  of  the  "Little 
Corporal,"  are  there  retained  and  cherished.  There, 
and  there  only,  our  modern  art  has  infused  itself 
into  the  life  and  manners  of  the  people.  Is  it 
equal  to  ancient  art? 


196  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

If,  from  painting  and  sculpture,  we  descend  to  in- 
ferior branches,  —  if,  as  we  tried  to  do  in  the  house  of 
Pansa,  we  despoil  the  museum  so  as  to  restore  their 
inmates  to  the  homes  of  Pompeii,  and  put  back  in  its 
place  the  fine  candelabra  with  the  carved  panther 
bearing  away  the  infant  Bacchus  at  full  speed;  the 
precious  scyphus,  in  which  two  centaurs  take  a  bevy 
of  little  Cupids  on  their  cruppers ;  that  other  vase  on 
which  Pallas  is  standing  erect  in  a  car, leaning  on  her 
spear ;  the  silver  saucepan,  —  there  were  such  in  those 
days,  —  the  handle  of  which  is  secured  by  two  birds' 
heads;  the  simple  pair  of  scales  —  they  carved  scales 
then!  —  where  one  sees  the  half  bust  of  a  warrior 
wearing  a  splendid  helmet;  in  fine,  the  humblest 
articles,  utensils  of  lowest  use,  nay,  even  simple  earth- 
enware covered  with  graceful  ornaments,  sometimes 
exquisitely  worked ;  — were  we  to  go  to  the  museum  at 
Naples  and  ask  what  the  ancients  used  instead  of  the 
hideous  boxes  in  which  we  shut  up  our  dead,  and  then 
behold  this  beautiful  urn  which  looks  as  though 
were  incrusted  with  ivory,  and  which  has  upon  it  i 
bas-relief  carved    masks    enveloped    in    complicated 


AKT  IN  POMPEII.  197 

vine-tendrils  twisted,  laden  with  clusters  of  grapes, 
intermingled  with  other  foliage,  tangled  all  up  in  rol- 
licking arabesques,  forming  rosettes,  in  the  midst  of 
which  birds  are  seen  perching,  and  leaving  but  two 
spaces  open  where  children  dear  to  Bacchus  are  pluck- 
ing grapes  or  treading  them  under  foot,  trilling 
stringed  lyres,  blowing  on  double  flutes  or  tumbling 
about  and  snapping  their  fingers  —  the  urn  itself  in 
blue  glass  and  the  reliefs  in  white  —  for  the  ancients 
knew  how  to  carve  glass,  —  ah !  undoubtedly,  in  sur- 
veying all  these  marvels,  we  should  be  forced  to  con- 
cede that  the  citizen  in  old  times  was  at  least,  as 
much  of  an  artist  as  he  is  to-day.  This  was  because 
in  those  times  no  barrier  was  erected  between  the 
citizen  and  the  artist.  There  were  no  two  opposing 
camps  —  on  one  side  the  Philistines,  and  on  the  other 
the  people  of  God.  There  was  no  line  of  distinction 
between  the  needful  and  the  superfluous,  between  the 
positive  and  the  ideal.  Art  was  daily  bread,  and  not 
lioliday  pound-cake;  it  made  its  way  everywhere;  it 
Illuminated,  it  gladdened,  it  perfumed  everything. 
It  did  not  stand  either  outside  of  or  above  ordinary 

life ;  it  was  the  soul  and  the  delight  of  life ;  in  a  word, 
17* 


198  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

it  penetrated  it,  and  was  penetrated  by  it,  —  it  lived! 
This  is  what  these  modest  ruins  teach.* 

•  *  A  badly  interpreted  inscription  on  the  gate  of  Nola  had  led,  foi 
a  moment,  to  the  belief  that  the  importation  of  this  singular  wor- 
ship dated  back  to  the  early  days  of  the  little  city ;  but  we  now 
know  that  it  was  introduced  by  Sylla  into  the  Roman  world.  Isif 
was  Nature,  the  patroness  of  the  Pompeians,  who  venerated  hei 
equally  in  their  physical  Venus.  This  form  of  religion,  mysterious, 
symbolical,  full  of  secrets  hidden  from  the  people,  as  it  was ;  these 
goddesses  with  heads  of  dogs,  wolves,  oxen,  hawks ;  the  god  Onion, 
the  god  Garlic,  the  god  Leek ;  all  that  Apuleius  tells  about  it,  be- 
sides the  data  furnished  by  the  Pompeian  excavations,  the  recov- 
ered bottle-brushes,  the  basins,  the  knives,  the  tripods,  the  cym- 
bals, the  citheraB,  etc.,  — were  worth  the  trouble  of  examinatioi 
and  study. 

Upon  the  door  of  the  temple,  a  strange  inscription  announced 
that  Numerius  Popidius,  the  son  of  Numerius,  had,  at  his  own  ex 
pense,  rebuilt  the  temple  of  Isis,  thrown  down  by  an  earthquake, 
and  that,  in  reward  for  his  liberality,  the  decurions  had  admittec 
him  gratuitously  to  their  college  at  the  age  of  six  years.  The  an- 
tiquaries, or  some  of  them,  at  least,  finding  this  age  improbable, 
have  read  it  sixty  instead  of  six,  forgetting  that  there  then  existec 
two  kinds  of  decurions,  the  ornamentarii  and  prcatextaU —  the  hon- 
orary and  the  active  officials.  The  former  might  be  associated 
with  the  Pompeian  Senate  in  recompense  for  services  rendered  bj 
their  fathers.  An  inscription  found  at  Misenum  confirms  this  fact. 
(See  the  Memorie  del  VAcademia  Ercolanese,  anno  1833)  —  Th< 
minutes  of  the  Herculaneum  Academy,  for  the  year  1833. 


F 


VIII. 

THE    THEATEES. 


The  Arrangement  of  the  Places  of  Amusement.  —  Entrance  Tickets. — The 
Velarium,  the  Orchestra,  the  Stage.  — The  Odeon.  — The  Holconii.  — 
The  Side  Scenes,  the  Masks.  — The  Atellan  Farces.  — The  Mimes.  — Jug- 
glers, etc.  — A  Remark  of  Cicero  on  the  Melodramas.  — The  Barrack  of 
the  Gladiators.' —  Scratched  Inscriptions,  Instruments  of  Torture.  — The 
Pompeian  Gladiators.  — The  Amphitheatre  :  Hunts,  Combats,  Butcheries, 
etc. 

We  are  now  going  to  rest  ourselves  at  the  theatre. 
Pompeii  had  two  such  places  of  amusement,  one 
tragic  and  the  other  comic,  or,  rather,  one  large  and 
one  smaller,  for  that  is  the  only  positive  difference 
existing  between  them;  all  else  on  that  point  is 
pure  hypothesis.  Let  us,  then,  say  the  large  and 
small  theatre,  and  we  shall  be  sure  to  make  no 
mistakes. 

The  grand  saloon  or  body  of    the  large  theatre 

formed  a    semicircle,  built  against  an  embankment 

so  that  the  tiers  of  seats  ascended  from  the  pit  to 

the    topmost    gallery,    without    resting    on    massive 

(199) 


200  TIJE   "WONDERS   OF  POMPEH. 

substructures.  In  this  respect  it  was  of  Greek  con- 
struction. The  four  upper  tiers  resting  upon  an 
arched  corridor,  in  the  Roman  style,  alone  reached 
the  height  on  which  stood  the  triangular  Forum 
and  the  Greek  temple.  Thus,  you  can  step  directly 
from  the  level  of  the  street  to  the  highest  galleries, 
from  which  your  gaze,  ranging  above  the  stage, 
can  sweep  the  country  and  the  sea,  and  at  the  same 
moment  plunge  far  below  you  into  that  soA  of 
regularly-shaped  ravine  in  which  once  sat  fixe  thou- 
sand Pompeians  eager  for  the  show. 

At  first  glance,  you  discover  three  main  divisions ; 
these  are  the  different  ranks  of  tiers,  the  cavece. 
There  are  three  cavece — the  lowermost,  the  mid- 
dle, and  the  upper  ones.  The  lowermost  was  consid- 
ered the  most  select.  It  comprised  only  the  four 
first  rows  of  benches,  or  seats,  which  were  broader 
and  not  so  high  as  the  others.  These  were  the 
places  reserved  for  magistrates  and  other  eminent 
persons.  Thither  they  had  their  seats  carried  and 
also  the  Msellia,  or  benches  for  two  persons,  on 
which  they  alone  had  the  right  to  sit.  A  low  wall, 
rising  behind  the  fourth  range  and  surmounted  with 


TIIE   THEATRES.  201 

a  marble  rail  that  has  now  disappeared,  separated 
this  lowermost  cavea  from  the  rest.  The  duumviri, 
the  decurions,  the  augustales,  the  sediles,  Holconius, 
Cornelius  Eufus,  and  Pansa,  if  he  was  elected,  sat 
there  majestically  apart  from  common  mortals.  The 
middle  division  was  for  quiet,  every-day,  private  citi- 
zens, like  ourselves.  Separated  into  wedge-like  corners 
(cunei)  by  six  flights  of  steps  cutting  it  in  as  many 
places,  it  comprised  a  limited  number  of  seats  marked 
by  slight  lines,  still  visible.  A  ticket  of  admission 
(a  tessera  or  domino)  of  bone,  earthenware,  or 
bronze  —  a  sort  of  counter  cut  in  almond  or  en  pigeon 
shape,  sometimes  too  in  the  form  of  a  ring — indicated 
exactly  the  cavea,  the  corner,  the  tier,  and  the  seat 
for  the  person  holding  it.  Tessarce  of  this  kind 
have  been  found  on  which  were  Greek  and  Roman 
characters  (a  proof  that  the  Greek  would  not  have 
been  understood  without  translation).  Upon  one  of 
them  is  inscribed  the  name  of  ^Eschylus,  in  the  gen- 
itive ;  and  hence  it  has  been  inferred  that  his  "  Pro- 
metheus" or  his  "Persians"  must  have  been  played 
on  the  Pompeian  stage,  unless,  indeed,  this  genitive 
designated  one  of   the  wedge-divisions  marked  out 


202  *THE  WONDEKS  OF  POMPEn. 

by  the  name  or  the  statue  of  the  tragic  poet.  Others 
have  mentioned  one  of  these  counters  that  announced 
the  representation  of  a  piece  by  Plautus, —  the  Cas- 
ina;  but  I  can  assure  you  that  the  relic  is  a  forgery, 
if,  indeed,  such  a  one  ever  existed. 

You  should,  then,  before  entering,  provide  yourself 
with  a  real  tessera,  which  you  may  purchase  for  very 
little  money.  Plautus  asked  that  folks  should  pay  an 
as  apiece.  "  Let  those, "  he  said,  "  who  have  not  got  it 
retire  to  their  homes."  The  price  of  the  seats  was 
proclaimed  aloud  by  a  crier,  who  also  received  the 
money,  unless  the  show  was  gratuitously  offered  to  the 
populace  by  some  magistrate  who  wished  to  retain 
public  favor,  or  some  candidate  anxious  to  procure  it. 
You  handed  in  your  ticket  to  a  sort  of  usher,  called 
the  designator,  or  the  locarhis,  who  pointed  out  your 
seat  to  you,  and,  if  required,  conducted  you  thither. 
You  could  then  take  your  place  in  the  middle  tier,  at 
the  top  of  which  was  the  statue  of  Marcus  Holconius 
Rufus,  duumvir,  military  tribune,  and  patron  of  the 
colony.  This  statue  had  been  set  up  there  by  order 
of  the  decurions.    The  holes  hollowed  in  the  pedestal 


THE   THEATRES.  203 

by  the  nails  that  secured  the  marble  feet  of  the  statue 
are  still  visible. 

Finally,  at  the  summit  of  the  half -moon  was  the 
uppermost  cavea,  assigned  to  the  common  herd  and 
the  women.  So,  after  all,  we  are  somewhat  ahead  of 
the  Romans  in  gallantry.  Railings  separated  this 
tier  from  the  one  we  sit  in,  so  as  to  prevent "  the  low 
rabble "  from  invading  the  seats  occupied  by  us  re- 
spectable men  of  substance.  Upon  the  wall  of  the 
people's  gallery  is  still  seen  the  ring  that  held  the  polo 
of  the  velcwium.  This  velarium  was  an  awning  that 
was  stretched  above  the  heads  of  the  spectators  to  pro- 
tect them  from  the  sun.  In  earlier  times  the  Romans 
had  scouted  at  this  innovation,  which  they  called  a 
piece  of  Campanian  effeminacy.  But  little  by  little, 
increasing  luxury  reduced  the  Puritans  of  Rome  to 
silence,  and  they  willingly  accepted  a  velarium  of  silk 
—  an  homage  of  Caesar.  Nero,  who  carried  every- 
thing to  excess,  went  further :  he  caused  a  velarium  of 
purple  to  be  embroidered  with  gold.  Caligula  fre- 
quently amused  himself  by  suddenly  withdrawing  this 
movable  shelter  and  leaving  the  naked  heads  of  tho 
spectators  exposed  to  the  beating  rays  of  the  sun. 


204:  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

But  it  seems  that  at  Pompeii  the  wind  frequently  pre- 
vented the  hoisting  of  the  canvas,  and  so  the  poet 
Martial  tells  us  that  he  will  keep  on  his  hat. 

Such  was  the  arrangement  of  the  main  body  of  the 
house.  Let  us  now  descend  to  the  orchestra,  which,1 
in  the  Greek  theatres,  was  set  apart  for  the  dancing  of 
the  choirs,  but  in  the  Roman  theatres,  was  reserved  for 
the  great  dignitaries,  and  at  Eome  itself  for  the  prince, 
the  vestals,  and  the  senators.  I  have  somewhere 
read  that,  in  the  great  city,  the  foreign  ambassadors 
were  excluded  from  these  places  of  honor  because 
among  them  could  be  found  the  sons  of  freedmen. 

Would  you  like  to  go  up  on  the  stage?  Raised 
about  five  feet  above  the  orchestra,  it  was  broader  than 
ours,  but  not  so  deep.  The  personages  of  the  antique 
repertory  did  not  swell  to  such  numbers  as  in  our 
fairy  spectacles.  Far  from  it.  The  stage  extended 
between  a  proscenium  or  front,  stretching  out  upon  the 
orchestra  by  means  of  a  wooden  platform,  which  has 
disappeared,  and  the  jpostscenium  or  side  scenes. 
There  was,  also,  a  kyposcenium  or  subterranean  part 
of  the  theatre,  for  the  scene-shifters  and  machinists. 
The  curtain  or  siparium  (a  Eoman  invention)  did  not 


THE  THEATRES.  205 

rise  to  the  ceiling  as  with  us,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
descended  so  as  to  disclose  the  stage,  and  rolled 
together  underground,  by  means  of  ingenious  pro- 
cesses which  Mazois  has  explained  to  us.  Thus,  the 
curtain  fell  at  the  beginning  and  rose  at  the  end  of 
the  piece. 

You  are  aware  that  in  ancient  drama  the  question 
of  scenery  was  greatly  simplified  by  the  rule  of  the 
unity  of  place.  The  stage  arrangement,  for  instance, 
represented  the  palace  of  a  prince.  Therefore,  there 
was  no  canvas  painted  at  the  back  of  the  stage;  it 
was  built  up.  This  decoration,  styled  the  scena  stabilis, 
rose  as  high  as  the  loftiest  tier  in  the  theatre,  and 
was  of  stone  and  marble  in  the  Pompeian  edifice.  It 
represented  a  magnificent  wall  pierced  for  three  doors ; 
in  the  centre  was  the  royal  door,  where  princes 
entered;  on  the  right,  the  entrance  of  the  household 
and  females ;  at  the  left,  the  entrance  for  guests  and 
strangers.  These  were  matters  to  be  fixed  in  the 
mind  of  the  spectator.  Between  these  doors  were 
rounded  and  square  niches  for  statues.  In  the  side- 
scenes,  was  the  moveable  decoration  {scena  ductilis), 

which  was  slid  in  front  of  the  back-piece  in  case  of 

18 


206  THE  WONDEES  OF  POMPEII. 

a  change  of  scene,  as,  for  instance,  when  playing  the 
Ajax  of  Sophocles,  where  the  place  of  action  is  trans- 
ferrred  from  the  Greek  camp  to  the  shores  of  the 
Hellespont.  Then,  there  were  other  side-scenes  not 
of  much  account,  owing  to  lack  of  room,  and  on  each 
wing  a  turning  piece  with  three  broad  flats  represent- 
ing three  different  subjects.  There  were  square  niches 
in  the  walls  of  the  proscenium  either  for  statues  or  for 
policemen  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  spectators.  Such, 
stated  in  a  few  lines  and  in  libretto  style,  was  the 
£ tage  in  ancient  times. 

I  confess  that  I  have  a  preference  for  the  smaller 
theatre  which  has  been  called  the  Odeon.  Is  that 
because,  possibly,  tragedies  were  never  played  there? 
Is  it  because  this  establishment  seems  more  complete 
and  in  better  preservation,  thanks  to  the  intelligent 
replacements  of  La  Vega,  the  architect?  It  was 
covered,  as  two  inscriptions  found  there  explicitly 
declare,  with  a  wooden  roof,  probably,  the  walls  not 
being  strong  enough  to  sustain  an  arch.  It  was 
reached  through  a  passage  all  bordered  with  inscrip- 
tions, traced  on  the  walls  by  the  populace  waiting  to 
secure  admission  as  they  passed  slowly  in,  one  after 


r      THE   THEATRES.  207 

the  other.  A  kog4%  file  of  gladiators  had  carved 
their  names  also  upon  the  walls,  along  with  an  enumer- 
ation of  their  victories;  barbarian  slaves,  and  some 
f  reedmen,  likewise,  had  left  their  marks.  These  prob- 
ably constituted  the  audience  that  occupied  the  upper- 
most seats  approached  by  the  higher  vomitories.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  were  no  lateral  vomitories.  The 
spectators  entered  the  orchestra  directly  by  large  doors, 
and  thence  ascended  to  the  four  tiers  of  the  lower 
{caved)  which  curved  like  hooks  at  their  extremities, 
and  were  separated  from  the  middle  cavea  by  a  para- 
pet of  marble  terminating  in  vigorously-carved  lion's 
paws.  Among  these  carvings  we  may  particularly 
note  a  crouching  Atlas,  of  short,  thick-set  form,  sustain- 
ing on  his  shoulders  and  his  arms,  which  are  doubled 
behind  him,  a  marble  slab  which  was  once  the  stand  of 
a  vase  or  candlestick.  This  athletic  effort  is  violently 
rendered  by  the  artist.  Above  the  orchestra  ran  the 
tribicnalia,  reminding  us  of  our  modern  stage-boxes. 
These  were  the  places  reserved  at  Rome  for  the  vestal 
virgins ;  at  Pompeii,  they  were  very  probably  those  of 
the  public  priestesses  —  of  Eumachia,  whose  statue  we 
have  already  seen,  or  of  Mamia  whoso  tomb  we  have 


208  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

inspected.  The  seats  of  the  three  cavea  were  of 
blocks  of  lava ;  and  there  can  still  be  seen  in  them  the 
hollows  in  which  the  occupants  placed  their  feet  so 
as  not  to  soil  the  spectators  below  them.  Let  us 
remember  that  the  Roman  mantles  were  of  white 
wool,  and  that  the  sandals  of  the  ancients  got  muddied 
just  as  our  shoes  do.  The  citizens  who  occupied  the 
central  cavea  brought  their  cushions  with  them  or 
folded  their  spotless  togas  on  the  seats  before  they  took 
their  places.  It  was  necessary,  then,  to  protect  them 
from  the  mud  and  the  dust  in  which  the  spectators 
occupying  the  upper  tiers  had  been  walking. 

The  number  of  ranges  of  seats  was  seventeen, 
divided  into  wedges  by  six  flights  of  steps,  and  in  stalls 
by  lines  yet  visible  upon  the  stone.  The  upper  tiers 
were  approached  by  vomitories  and  by  a  subterranean 
corridor.  The  orchestra  formed  an  arc  the  chord  of 
which  was  indicated  by  a  marble  strip  with  this  inscrip- 
tion: 

"M.  Olconius  M.  F.  Vervs,  Pro  Ludis." 

This  Olconius  or  Iiolconius  was  the  Marquis  of 
Carabas  of  Pompeii.  His  name  may  be  read  every- 
where in  the  streets,  on  the  monuments,  and  on  the 


THE   THEATRES.  209 

walls  of  the  houses.  We  have  seen  already  that  the 
fruiterers  wanted  him  for  csdile.  "We  have  pointed 
out  the  position  of  his  statue  in  the  theatre.  We 
know  by  inscriptions  that  he  was  not  the  only  illustri- 
ous member  of  his  family.  There  were  also  a  Marcus 
Holconius  Celer,  a  Marcus  Holconius  Kufus,  etc. 
Were  this  petty  municipal  aristocracy  worth  the 
trouble  of  hunting  up,  we  could  easily  find  it  on  the 
electoral  programmes  by  collecting  the  names  usually 
affixed  thereon.  But  Holconius  is  the  one  most  con- 
spicuous of  them  all ;  so,  hats  off  to  Holconius ! 

I  return  to  the  theatre.  Two  large  side  windows 
illuminated  the  stage,  which,  being  covered,  had  need 
of  light.  The  back  scene  was  not  carved,  but  painted 
and  pierced  for  five  doors  instead  of  three ;  those  at 
the  ends,  which  were  masked  by  movable  side  scenes 
served,  perhaps,  as  entrances  to  the  lobbies  of  the 
priestesses. 

Would  you  like  to  go  behind  the  scenes  ?  Passing 
by  the  barracks  of  the  gladiators,  we  enter  an  apart- 
ment adorned  with  columns,  which  was,  very  likely, 
the  common  hall  and  dressing-room  of  the  actors.    A 

celebrated  mosaic  in  the  house  of  the  poet  (or  jew* 
18* 


210  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

eller),  shows  us  a  scenic  representation :  in  it  we 
observe  the  choragtcs,  surrounded  by  masks  and  other 
accessories  (the  choragus  was  the  manager  and  direc- 
tor) ;  he  is  making  two  actors,  got  up  as  satyrs,  rehearse 
their  parts ;  behind  them,  another  comedian,  assisted  by 
a  costumer  of  some  kind,  is  trying  to  put  on  a  yellow 
garment  which  is  too  small  for  him.  Thus  we  can 
re-people  the  antechamber  of  the  stage.  We  see 
already  those  comic  masks  that  were  the  principal 
resource  in  the  wardrobe  of  the  ancient  players. 
Some  of  them  were  typical ;  for  instance,  that  of  the 
young  virgin,  with  her  hair  parted  on  her  forehead 
and  carefully  combed;  that  of  the  slave-driver  (or 
hege?no?ius),  recognized  by  his  raised  eyelids,  his 
wrinkled  brows  and  his  twists  of  hair  done  up  in  a 
wig;  that  of  the  wizard,  with  immense  eyes  starting 
from  their  sockets,  seamed  skin  covered  with  pimples, 
with  enormous  ears,  and  short  hair  frizzed  in  snaky 
ringlets ;  that  of  the  bearded,  furious,  staring,  and  sin- 
ister old  man ;  and  above  all,  those  of  the  Atellan  low 
comedians,  who,  born  in  Campania,  dwell  there  still, 
and  must  assuredly  have  amused  the  little  city  through 
which  we  are  passing.     Atella,    the  country  of  Mac- 


THE   THEATRES.  211 


cms  was  only  some  seven  or  eight  leagues  distant  from 
Pompeii,  and  numerous  interests  and  business  con- 
nections united  the  inhabitants  of  the  two  places.  I 
have  frequently  stated  that  the  Oscan  language,  in 
which  the  Atellan  farces  were  written,  had  once  been 
the  only  tongue,  and  had  continued  to  be  the  popular 
dialect  of  the  Pompeians.  The  Latin  gradually  inter- 
mingled with  these  pieces,  and  the  confusion  of  the 
two  idioms  was  an  exhaustless  source  of  witticisms, 
puns,  and  bulls  of  all  kinds,  that  must  have  afforded 
Homeric  laughter  to  the  plebeians  of  Pompeii.  The 
longshoremen  of  Naples,  in  our  day,  seek  exactly 
similar  effects  in  the  admixture  of  pure  Italian  and 
the  local  jpatois.  The  titles  of  some  of  the  Atellian 
farces  are  still  extant:  "Pappus,  the  Doctor  Shown 
Out,"  "Maccus  Married,"  "Maccus  as  Safe  Keeper," 
etc.  These  are  nearly  the  same  subjects  that  are  still 
treated  every  day  on  the  boards  at  Naples ;  the  same 
rough  daubs,  half  improvised  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment; the  same  frankly  coarse  and  indecent  gayety. 
The  Odeon  where  we  are  now,  was  the  Pompeian  San 
Carlino.  Bucco,  the  stupid  and  mocking  buffoon; 
the  dotard  Pappus,  who  reminds  us  of  the  Yenetian 


212  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

Pantaloon;  Mandacus,  who  is  the  Neapolitan  Gnappo; 
the  Oscan  Casnar,  a  first  edition  of  Cassandra ;  and 
finally,  Maccus,  the  king  of  the  company,  the  Punch- 
inello who  still  survives  and  flourishes, — such  were  the 
ancient  mimes,  and  such,  too,  are  their  modern  suc- 
cessors. All  these  must  have  appeared  in  their  turn 
on  the  small  stage  of  the  Odeon ;  and  the  slaves,  the 
freedmen  crowded  together  in  the  upper  tiers,  the 
citizens  ranged  in  the  middle  cavea  or  family-circle, 
the  duumvirs,  the  decurions,  the  augustals,  the  sediles 
seated  majestically  on  the  bisellia  of  the  orchestra, 
even  the  priestesses  of  the  proscenium  and  the  melan- 
choly Eumachia,  whose  statue  confesses,  I  know  not 
what  anguish  of  the  heart, — all  these  must  have  roared 
with  laughter  at  the  rude  and  extravagant  sallies  of 
their  low  comedians,  who,  notwithstanding  the  parts 
they  played,  were  more  highly  appreciated  than  the 
rest  and  had  the  exclusive  privilege  of  wearing  the 
title  of  Roman  citizens. 

Now,  if  these  trivialities  revolt  your  fastidious  taste, 
you  can  picture  to  yourself  the  representation  of  some 
comedy  of  Plautus  in  the  Odeon  of  Pompeii ;  that  is, 
admitting,  to  begin  with,  that  you  can  find  a  comedy 


T1IE   THEATEES.  213 

!  by  that  author  which  in  no  wise  shocks  our  susceptibili- 
ties. You  can  also  fill  the  stage  with  mimes  and  pan- 
tomimists,  for  the  favor  accorded  to  that  class  of  actors 
under  the  emperors  is  well  known.  The  Caesars  —  1 
am  speaking  of  the  Romans — somewhat  feared  spoken 
comedy,  attributing  political  proclivities  to  it,  as  they 
did ;  and,  hence,  they  encouraged  to  their  utmost  that 
mute  comedy  which,  at  the  same  time,  in  the  Imperial 
Babel,  had  the  advantage  of  being  understood  by  all 
the  conquered  nations.  In  the  provinces,  this  su- 
preme art  of  gesticulation,  "these  talking  fingers,  these 
loquacious  hands,  this  voluble  silence,  this  unspoken 
explanation,"  as  was  once  choicely  said,  were  service- 
able in  advancing  the  great  work  of  Roman  unity. 
"  The  substitution  of  ballet  pantomimes  for  comedy  and 
tragedy  resulted  in  causing  the  old  masterpieces  to  be 
neglected,  thereby  enfeebling  the  practice  of  the 
national  idioms  and  seconding  the  propagation,  if  not 
of  the  language,  at  least  of  the  customs  and  ideas  of 
the  Romans."     (Charles  Magnin.) 

If  the  mimes  do  not  suffice,  call  into  the  Odeon  the 
rope-dancers,  the  acrobats,  the  jugglers,  the  ventrilo- 
quists,—  for  all  these  lower  orders  of  public  performers 


214  WONDERS   OF   POltfPEII. 

existed  among  the  ancients  and  swarmed  in  the  Pom- 
peian  pictures,  —  or  the  flute-players  enlivening  the 
waits  with  their  melody  and  accompanying  the  voice 
of  the  actors  at  moments  of  dramatic  climax.  "  How 
can  he  feel  afraid,"  asked  Cicero,  in  this  connection, 
"since  he  recites  such  fine  verses  while  he  accompanies 
himself  on  the  flute  % "  What  would  the  great  orator 
have  said  had  he  been  present  at  our  melodramas  ? 

We  may  then  imagine  what  kind  of  play  we  please 
on  the  little  Pompeian  stage.  For  my  part,  I  prefer 
the  Atellan  farces.  They  were  the  buffooneries  of  the 
locality,  the  coarse  pleasantry  of  native  growth,  the 
hilarity  of  the  vineyard  and  the  grain-field,  exuberant 
fancy,  grotesque  in  solemn  earnest ;  in  a  word,  ideal 
sport  and  frolic  without  the  least  regard  to  reality  — • 
in  fine,  Punchinello's  comedy.  We  prefer  Moliere ;  but 
how  many  things  there  are  in  Moliere  which  come  in 
a  direct  line  from  Maccus ! 

It  is  time  to  leave  the  theatre.  I  have  said  that  the 
Odeon  opened  into  the  gladiators'  barracks.  These 
barracks  form  a  spacious  court  —  a  sort  of  cloister 
—  surrounded  by  seventy-four  pillars,  unfortunately 
spoiled  by  the  Pompeians  of  the    restoration  period. 


THE   THEATRES.  215 

They  topped  them  with  new  capitals  of  stucco  no- 
toriously ill  adapted  to  them.  This  gallery  wTas  sur- 
rounded with  curious  dwellings,  among  which  was  a 
prison  where  three  skeletons  were  found,  with  their 
legs  fastened  in  irons  of  ingeniously  cruel  device. 
The  instrument  in  question  may  be  seen  at  the  mu- 
seum. It  looks  like  a  prostrate  ladder,  in  which  the 
limbs  of  the  prisoners  were  secured  tightly  between 
short  and  narrow  rungs  —  four  bars  of  iron.  These 
poor  wretches  had  to  remain  in  a  sitting  or  reclining 
posture,  and  perished  thus,  without  the  power  to  rise 
or  turn  over,  on  the  day  when  Yesuvius  swallowed  up 
the  city. 

It  was  for  a  long  time  thought  that  these  barracks 
were  the  quarters  of  the  soldiery,  because  arms  were 
found  there ;  but  the  latter  were  too  highly  orna- 
mented to  belong  to  practical  fighting  troops,  and  were 
the  very  indications  that  suggested  to  Father  Garrucci 
the  firmly  established  idea,  that  the  dwellings  sur- 
rounding the  gallery  must  have  been  occupied  by 
gladiators.  These  habitations  consist  of  some  sixty 
cells :   now  there  were  sixty  gladiators  in  Pompeii, 


216  WONDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

because  an  album  programme  announced  thirty  pair  of 
them  to  fight  in  the  amphitheatre. 

The  pillars  of  the  gallery  were  covered  with  inscrip- 
tions scratched  on  their  surface.  Many  of  these 
graphites  formed  simple  Greek  names  Pompaios, 
Arpokrates,  Celsa,  etc.,  or  Latin  names,  or  fragments 
of  sentences,  curate  pecuniae,  fur  es  Torque,  Rustwo 
feliciter !  etc.  Others  proved  clearly  that  the  place 
was  inhabited  by  gladiators :  inludus  Velius  (that  is  to 
say  not  in  the  game,  out  of  the  ring)  bis. victor  libertus — 
— leonibus,  victor  Veneri  jparmam  feret.  Other  inscrip- 
tions designate  families  or  troops  of  gladiators,  of 
which  there  are  a  couple  familiar  to  us  already,  that  of 
N.  Festus  Ampliatus  and  that  of  1ST.  Popidius  Euf us ; 
and  a  third,  with  which  we  are  not  acquainted,  namely, 
that  of  Pomponius  Faustinus. 

What  has  not  been  written  concerning  the  gla- 
diators? The  origin  of  their  bloody  sports;  the 
immolations,  voluntary  at  first,  and  soon  afterward 
compulsory,  that  did  honor  to  the  ashes  of  the  dead 
warriors;  then  the  combats  around  the  funeral  pyres; 
then,  ere  long,  the  introduction  of  these  funeral 
spectacles  as  part  of  the  public  festivals,  especially 


THE   THEATRES.  217 

in  the  triumphal  parades  of  victorious  generals ; 
then  into  private  pageants,  and  then  into  the  ban- 
quets of  tyrants  who  caused  the  heads  of  the  pro- 
scribed to  be  brought  to  them  at  table.  The  skill 
of  such  and  such  an  artist  in  decapitation  (decollandi 
artifex)  was  the  subject  of  remark  and  compliment. 
Ah,  those  were  the  grand  ages ! 

As  the  reader  also  knows,  the  gladiators  were 
at  first  prisoners  of  war,  barbarians;  then,  prisoners 
not  coming  in  sufficient  number,  condemned  culprits 
and  slaves  were  employed,  ere  long,  in  hosts  so 
strong  as,  to  revolt  in  Campania  at  the  summons 
of  Spartacus.  Consular  armies  were  vanquished  and 
the  Roman  prisoners,  transformed  to  gladiators,  in 
their  turn  were  compelled  to  butcher  each  other 
around  the  funeral  pyres  of  their  chiefs.  However, 
these  combats  had  gradually  ceased  to  be  penalties 
and  punishments,  and  soon  were  nothing  but  bar 
barons  spectacles,  violent  pantomimic  performances, 
like  those  which  England  and  Spain  have  not  yet 
been  able  to  suppress.  The  troops  of  mercenary 
fighters    slaughtered    each   other    in    the    arenas    to 

amuse  the  Eomans   (not  to    render  them  warlike). 
19 


218  THE   WONDEES   OF   POMPEII. 


Citizens  took  part  in  these  tournaments,  and  among 
them  even  nobles,  emperors,  and  women;  and,  at 
last,  the  Samnites,  Ganls,  and  Thracians,  who  de- 
scended into  the  arena,  were  only  Romans  in  disguise. 
These  shows  became  more  and  more  varied;  they 
were  diversified  with  hunts  (venationes),  in  which 
wild  beasts  fought  with  each  other  or  against  hes- 
tiarii,  or  Christians ;  the  amphitheatres,  transformed 
to  lakes,  offered  to  the  gaze  of  the  delighted  spec- 
tator real  naval  battles,  and  ten  thousand  gladiators 
were  let  loose  against  each  other  by  the  imperial 
caprice  of  Trajan.  These  entertainments  lasted 
one  hundred  and  twenty-three  days.  Imagine  the 
carnage ! 

Part  of  the  gladiators  of  Pompeii  were  Greeks, 
and  part  were  real  barbarians.  The  traces  that 
they  have  left  in  the  little  city  show  that  they  got 
along  quite  merrily  there.  'Tis  true  that  they 
could  not  live,  as  they  did  at  Borne,  in  close  in- 
timacy with  emperors  and  empresses,  but  they  were, 
none  the  less,  the  spoiled  pets  of  the  residents  of 
Pompeii.  Lodged  in  a  sumptuous  barrack,  they 
must  have  been   objects   of   envy  to   many   of   the 


THE  THEATRES.  219 

population.  The  walls  are  full  of  inscriptions  con 
corning  them;  the  bathing  establishments,  the  inns, 
and  the  disreputable  haunts,  transmit  their  names  to 
posterity.  The  citizens,  their  wives,  and  even  their 
children  admired  them.  In  the  house  of  Proculns, 
at  no  great  height  above  the  ground,  is  a  picture  of 
a  gladiator  which  must  have  been  daubed  there  by 
the  young  lad  of  the  house.  The  gladiator  whose 
likeness  was  thus  given  dwelt  in  the  house.  His 
helmet  was  found  there.  So,  then,  he  was  the  guest 
of  the  family,  and  Heaven  knows  how  they  feasted 
him,  petted  him,  and  listened  to  him. 

In  order  to  see  the  gladiators  under  arms,  we 
must  pass  over  the  part  of  the  city  that  has  not  yet 
been  uncovered,  and  through  vineyards  and  orchards, 
until,  in  a  corner  of  Pompeii,  as  though  down  in 
the  bottom  of  a  ravine,  we  find  the  amphitheatre. 
It  is  a  circus,  surrounded  by  tiers  of  seats  and  abutting 
on  the  city  ramparts.  The  exterior  wall  is  not  high, 
because  the  amphitheatre  had  to  be  hollowed  out  in 
the  soil.  One  might  fancy  it  to  be  a  huge  vessel 
deeply  embedded  in  the  sand.  In  this  external  wall 
there  remain  two  large  arcades  and  four  nights  of 


220  THE  WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

steps  ascending  to  the  top  of  the  structure.  The 
arena  was  so  called  because  of  the  layer  of  sand 
which  covered  it  and  imbibed  the  blood. 

It  is  reached  by  two  large  vaulted  and  paved  corri- 
dors with  a  quite  steep  inclination.  One  of  these  is 
strengthened  with  seven  arches  that  support  the  weight 
of  the  tiers.  Both  of  them  intersect  a  transverse, 
circular  corridor,  beyond  which  they  widen.  It  was 
through  this  that  the  armed  gladiators,  on  horseback 
and  on  foot,  poured  forth  into  the  arena,  to  the 
sound  of  trumpets  and  martial  music,  and  made  the 
circuit  of  the  amphitheatre  before  entering  the  lists. 
They  then  retraced  their  steps  and  came  in  again, 
in  couples,  according  to  the  order  of  combat. 

To  the  right  of  the  principal  entrance  a  doorway 
opens  into  two  square  rooms  with  gratings,  where  the 
wild  beasts  were  probably  kept.  Another  very  nar- 
row corridor  ran  from  the  street  to  the  arena,  near 
which  it  ascended,  by  a  small  staircase,  to  a  little 
round  apartment  apparently  the  spoliato?riu?n,  where 
they  stripped  the  dead  gladiators.  The  arena  formed 
an  oval  of  sixty-eight  yards  by  thirty-six.  It  was 
surrounded  by  a  wall  of  two  yards  in  height,  above 


Mil 


^-%-^P 


THE   THEATRES.  221 


which  may  still  be  seen  the  holes  where  gratings 
and  thick  iron  bars  were  inserted  as  a  precaution 
against  the  bounds  of  the  panthers.  In  the  large 
amphitheatres  a  ditch  was  dug  around  this  rampart 
and  filled  with  water  to  intimidate  the  elephants,  as 
the  ancients  believed  them  to  have  a  horror  of  that 
element. 

Paintings  and  inscriptions  covered  the  walls  or 
podium  of  the  arena.  These  inscriptions  acquaint 
us  with  the  names  of  the  duumvirs, — 1ST.  Istadicius,  A. 
Audius,  O.  Caesetius  Saxtus  Capito,  M.  Gantrius 
Marcellus,  who,  instead  of  the  plays  and  the  illumina- 
tion, which  they  would  have  had  to  pay  for,  on  assum- 
ing office,  had  caused  three  cunei  to  be  constructed  on 
the  order  of  the  decurions.  Another  inscription  gives 
us  to  understand  that  two  other  duumvirs,  Caius 
Quinctius  Valgus  and  Marcus  Portius,  holding  five- 
year  terms,  had  instituted  the  first  games  at  their  ex- 
pense for  the  honor  of  the  colony,  and  had  granted  the 
ground  on  which  the  amphitheatre  stood,  in  perpetuity. 
These  two  magistrates  must  have  been  very  generous 
men,  and  very  fond  of  public  shows.  We  know  that 
19* 


222  THE    WONDEES   OF   POMPEH, 

they  contributed,  in  like  manner,  to  the  construction 
of  the  Odeon. 

Would  you  now  like  to  go  over  the  general  sweep 
of  the  tiers — the  visoriumf  Three  grand  divisions 
as  in  the  theatre;  the  lowermost  separated,  by  entries 
and  private  flights  of  steps,  into  eighteen  boxes;  the 
middle  and  upper  one  divided  into  cunei,  the  first 
by  twenty  stairways,  the  second  by  forty.  Around 
the  latter  was  an  inclosing  wall,  intersected  by  vom- 
itories and  forming  a  platform  where  a  number  of 
spectators,  arriving  too  late  for  seats,  could  still  find 
standing-room,  and  where  the  manoeuvres  were  exe- 
cuted that  were  requisite  to  hoist  the  velarium,  or  awn- 
ing. All  these  made  up  an  aggregate  of  twenty-four 
ranges  of  seats,  upon  which  were  packed  perhaps  twenty 
thousand  spectators.  So  much  for  the  audience. 
Nothing  could  be  more  simple  or  more  ingenious  than 
the  system  of  extrication  by  which  the  movement,  to 
and  fro,  of  this  enormous  throng  was  made  possible, 
and  easy.  The  circular  and  vaulted  corridor  which, 
under  the  tiers,  ran  around  the  arena  and  conducted, 
by  a  great  number  of  distinct  stairways,  to  the  tiers 
of  the  lower  and  middle  cavea,  while  upper  stairways 


THE   THEATRES.  223 


enabled  the  populace  to  ascend  to  the  highest  story 
assigned  to  it. 

One  is  surprised  so  see  so  large  an  amphitheatre  in  so 
small  a  city.  But,  let  us  not  forget  that  Pompeii 
attracted  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighboring  towns  to 
her  festivals ;  history  even  tells  us  an  anecdote  on  this 
subject  that  is  not  without  its  moral. 

The  Senator  Liveneius  Pegulus,  who  had  been  driven 
from  Home  and  found  an  asylum  in  Pompeii,  offered 
a  gladiator  show  to  the  hospitable  little  city.  A  num- 
ber of  people  from  Eocera  had  gone  to  the  pageant, 
and  a  quarrel  arose,  probably  owing  to  municipal 
rivalries,  that  eternal  curse  of  Italy;  from  words  they 
came  to  blows  and  volleys  of  stones,  and  even  to  slash- 
ing with  swords.  There  were  dead  and  wounded  on 
both  sides.  The  Noeera  visitors,  being  less  numer- 
ous, were  beaten,  and  made  complaint  to  Pome.  The 
affair  was  submitted  to  the  Emperor,  who  sent  it  to 
the  Senate,  who  referred  it  to  the  Consuls,  who 
referred  it  back  again  to  the  Senate.  Then  came  the 
sentence,  and  public  shows  were  prohibited  in  Pompeii 
for  the  space  of  ten  years.  A  caricature  winch  recalls 
this  punishment  has  been  found  hi  the  Street  of  Mer- 


224  THE  WONDERS  OF  POMFEII. 

cuiy.  It  represented  an  armed  gladiator  descending, 
with  a  palm  in  his  hand,  into  the  amphitheatre:  on 
the  left,  a  second  personage  is  drawing  a  third 
toward  him  on  a  seat;  the  third  one  had  his  arms 
bound,  and  was,  no.  doubt,  a  prisoner.  This  inscription 
accompanies  the  entire  piece:  "Campanians,  your 
victory  has  been  as  fatal  to  you  as  it  was  to  the  people 
of  Nocera. "  * 

The  hand  of  Koine,  ever  the  hand  of  Eome ! 

For  that  matter,  the  ordinances  relating  to  the 
amphitheatre  applied  to  the  whole  empire.  One  of  the 
Pompeian  inscriptions  announces  that  the  duumvir 
C.  Cuspius  Pansa  had  been  appointed  to  superintend 
the  public  shows  and  see  to  the  observance  of  the 
Petronian  law.  This  law  prohibited  Senators  from 
fighting  in  the  arena,  and  even  from  sending  slaves 
thither  who  had  not  been  condemned  for  crime.  Such 
things,  then,  required  to  be  prohibited! 

I  have  described  the  arena  and  the  seats;  let  me 
now  pass  on  to  the  show  itself.  Would  you  like  to 
have  a  hunt  or  a  gladiatorial  combat?    Here  I  invent 

*  M.  Campfleury  lias  reproduced  tnis  design  in  his  very  curious 
book  on  Antique  Caricature 


THE  THEATRES.  225 

nothing.  1  have  data,  found  at  Pompeii  (the  paintings 
in  the  amphitheatre  and  the  bas-reliefs  on  the  tomb 
of  Scaurus),  that  reproduce  scenes  which  I  have  but 
to  transfer  to  prose.  Let  us,  then,  suppose  the  twenty 
thousand  spectators  to  be  in  their  places  on  thirty-four 
ranges  of  seats,  one  above  the  other,  around  the  arena; 
then,  let  us  take  our  seats  among  them  and  look  on. 

First  we  have  a  hunt.  A  panther,  secured  by  a 
long  rope  to  the  neck  of  a  bull  let  loose,  is  set  on 
against  a  young  bestiariics,  who  holds  two  javelins  in 
his  hands.  A  man,  armed  with  a  long  lance,  irritates 
the  bull  so  that  it  may  move  and  second  the  rush  of 
the  panther  fastened  to  it.  The  lad  who  has  the  jave- 
lins, and  is  a  novice  in  his  business,  is  but  making  his 
first  attempt;  should  the  bull  not  move,  he  runs  no 
risk,  yet  I  should  not  like  to  be  in  his  place. 

Then  follows  a  more  serious  combat  between  a  bear 
and  a  man,  who  irritates  him  by  holding  out  a  cloth  at 
him,  as  the  matadors  do  in  bull-fights.  Another  group 
shows  us  a  tiger  and  a  lion  escaping  in  different  direc- 
tions. An  nnarmed  and  naked  man  is  in  pursuit  of 
the  tiger,  who  cannot  be  a  very  cross  one.  But  here  is 
a  vcnatio  much  more  dramatic  in  its  character.     The 


226  THE  WONDERS  OF  POMPEII. 

nude  bestiarius  has  just  pierced  a  wolf  through  and 
through,  and  the  animal  is  in  flight  with  the  spear 
sticking  in  his  body,  but  the  man  staggers  and  a  wild 
boar  is  rushing  at  him.  At  the  same  time,  a  stag 
thrown  down  by  a  lasso  that  is  still  seen  dangling  to 
his  antlers,  awaits  his  death-blow ;  hounds  are  dashing 
at  him,  and  "  their  fierce  baying  echoes  from  vale  to 
vale." 

But  that  is  not  all.  Look  at  yon  group  of  victors :  a 
real  matador  has  plunged  his  spear  into  the  breast  of 
a  bull  with  so  violent  a  stroke  that  the  point  of  the 
weapon  comes  out  at  the  animal's  back ;  and  another 
has  just  brought  down  and  impaled  a  bear;  a  dog  is 
leaping  at  the  throat  of  a  fugitive  wild  boar  and 
biting  him ;  and,  in  this  ferocious  menagerie,  peopled 
with  lions  and  panthers,  two  rabbits  are  scampering 
about,  undoubtedly  to  the  great  amusement  of  t^e 
throng.  The  Komans  were  fond  of  these  contrasts, 
which  furnished  Galienus  an  opportunity  to  be  jo- 
cosely generous.  "A  lapidary,"  says  M.  Magnin, 
"had  sold  the  emperor's  wife  some  jewels,  which 
were  recognized  to  be  false ;  the  emperor  had  the  dis- 
honest dealer  arrested  and  condemned  to  the  lions; 


THE  THEATRES.  227 

>ut  when  the  fatal  moment  came,  he  turned  no  more 
formidable  creature  loose  upon  him  than  a  capon. 
Everybody  was  astonished,  and  while  all  were  vainly 
striving  to  guess  the  meaning  of  such  an  enigma,  he 
caused  the  curion,  or  herald,  to  proclaim  aloud :  "  This 
man  tried  to  cheat,  and  now  he  is  caught  in  his  turn." 

I  have  described  the  hunts  at  Pompeii ;  they  were 
small  affairs  compared  with  those  of  Kome.  The 
reader  may  know  that  Titus,  who  finished  the  Coli- 
seum, caused  five  thousand  animals  to  be  killed  there 
in  a  single  day  in  the  presence  of  eighty  thousand 
spectators.  Let  us  confess,  however,  that  with  this 
exhibition  of  tigers,  panthers,  lions,  and  wild  boars, 
the  provincial  hunts  were  still  quite  dramatic. 

I  now  come  to  the  gladiatorial  combats.  To  com- 
mence with  the  preliminaries  of  the  fight,  a  ring- 
master, with  his  long  staff  in  his  hand,  traces  the 
circle,  within  which  the  antagonists  must  keep.  One 
of  the  latter,  half -armed,  blows  his  trumpet  and  two 
boys  behind  him  hold  his  helmet  and  his  shield.  The 
other  has  nothing,  as  yet,  but  his  shield  in  his  hand ; 
two  slaves  are  bringing  him  his  helmet  and  his  sword. 
The  trumpet  has  sounded,  and   the  ring-master  and 


228  THE   WONDERS   OF   POMPEII. 

slaves  have  disappeared.  The  gladiators  are  at  it.  One 
of  them  has  met  with  a  mishap.  The  point  of  his  sword 
is  bent  and  he  has  just  thrown  away  his  shield.  The 
blood  is  flowing  from  his  arm,  which  he  extends  to- 
ward the  spectators,  at  the  same  time  raising  his 
thumb.  That  was  the  sign  the  vanquished  made  when 
they  asked  for  quarter.  But  the  people  do  not  grant  it 
this  time,  for  they  have  turned  the  twenty  thousand 
thumbs  of  their  right  hands  downwards.  The  man 
must  die,  and  the  victor  is  advancing  upon  him  to 
slaughter  him. 

"Would  you  like  to  see  an  equestrian  combat?  Two 
horsemen  are  charging  on  each  other.  They  wear 
helmets  with  visors,  and  carry  spears  and  the  round 
shield  (parma),  but  they  are  lightly  armed.  Only  one  of 
their  arms — that  which  sustains  the  spear — is  covered 
with  bands  or  armlets  of  metal.  Their  names  and  the 
number  of  their  victories  already  won  are  known. 
The  first  is  Bebrix,  a  barbarian,  who  has  been  triumph- 
ant fifteen  times ;  the  second  is  Kbbilior,  a  Roman, 
who  has  vanquished  eleven  times.  The  combat  is  still 
undecided.  Nobilior  is  just  delivering  a  spear  thrust, 
which  is  vigorously  parried  by  Bebrix. 


THE  THEATRES,  229 


Would  you  prefer  a  still  more  singular  kind  of 
duel  —  one  between  a  secutor  and  a  retiarius  f  The 
retiarius  wears  neither  helmet  nor  cuirass,  but  carries 
a  three-pronged  javelin,  called  a  trident,  in  his  left 
hand,  and  in  his  right  a  net,  which  he  endeavors  to 
throw  over  the  head  of  his  adversary.  If  he  misses 
his  aim  he  is  lost ;  the  secutor  then  pursues  him,  sword 
in  hand,  and  kills  him.  But  in  the  duel  at  which  we 
are  present,  the  secutor  is  vanquished,  and  has  fallen 
on  one  knee;  the  retiarius,  Nepimus,  triumphant  al- 
ready on  five  preceding  occasions,  has  seized  him  by 
the  belt,  and  has  planted  one  foot  upon  his  leg,  but  the 
trident  not  being  sufficient  to  finish  him,  a  second 
secutor,  Hippolytus  by  name,  who  has  survived  five 
previous  victories,  has  come  up.  Hippolytus  rests  one 
hand  upon  the  helmet  of  the  vanquished  secutor  who 
vainly  clasps  his  knees,  and  with  the  other,  cuts  his 
throat. 

Death  —  always  death!     In  the  paintings;  in  the 

bas-reliefs  that  I  describe;  in  the  scenes  that  they 

reproduce;   in  the  arena  where  these  combats  must 

have  taken  place,  I  can  see  only  unhappy  wretches 

undergoing  assassination.     One  of  them,  holding  his 
20 


THE  W015TDERS  OF   POMPEII. 

shield  behind  him,  is  thinking  only  how  he  may  man* 
age  to  fall  with  grace;  another,  kneeling,  presses  his 
wound  with  one  hand,  and  stretches  the  other  out  to- 
ward the  spectators ;  some  of  them  have  a  suppliant 
look,  others  are  stoical,  bnt  all  will  have  to  roll  at  last 
upon  the  sand  of  the  arena,  condemned  by  the  inex- 
orable caprice  of  a  people  greedy  for  blood.  "The 
modest  virgin,"  says  Juvenal,  "  turning  down  her 
thumb,  orders  that  the  breast  of  yonder  man,  grovel- 
ling in  the  dust,  shall  be  torn  open."  And  all  —  the 
heavily  armed  Samnite,  the  Gaul,  the  Thracian,  the 
secutor;  the  dimachoenis,  with  his  two  swords;  the 
swordsman  who  wears  a  helmet  surmounted  with  a 
fish  —  the  one  whom  the  retiarius  pursues  with  his  net, 
meanwhile  singing  this  refrain,  "  It  is  not  you 
that  I  am  after,  but  your  fish,  and  why  do  you  flee 
from  me  ? "  —  all,  all  must  succumb,  at  last,  sooner  or 
later,  were  it  to  be  after  the  hundredth  victory,  in  this 
same  arena,  where  once  an  attendant  employed  in  the 
theatre  used  to  come,  in  the  costume  of  Mercury,  to 
touch  them  with  a  red-hot  iron  to  make  sure  that  they 
were  dead.  If  they  moved,  they  were  at  once  dis- 
patched ;  if  they  remained  icy-cold  and  motionless,  a 


THE   THEATRES. 


231 


slave  harpooned  them  with  a  hook,  and  dragged  them 
through  the  mire  of  sand  and  blood  to  the  narrow  cor- 
ridor, the  porta  libitinensis,  —  the  portal  of  death,  — 
whence  they  were  flung  into  the  spoliarium,  so  that 
their  arms  and  clothing,  at  least,  might  be  saved. 
Such  were  the  games  of  the  amphitheatre. 


IX. 

THE     ERUPTION. 

The  Deluge  of  Ashes.  — The  Deluge  of  Fire.  — The  Flight  of  the  Pompeians. 

— The  Preoccupations  of  the  Pompeian  Women.  — The  Victims  :  the  Fam- 

.    ily  of  dlomed  ;  the  sentinel  ;  the  woman  walled  up  in  a  tomb  ;  the  priest 

of  Isis ;  the  Lovers  clinging  together,  etc.  — The  Skeletons.  —The  Dead 

Bodies  moulded  by  Vesuvius. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  festivals,  on  the  23d 
of  November,  79,  that  the  terrible  eruption  which  over- 
whelmed the  city  burst  forth.  The  testimony  of  the 
ancients,  the  ruins  of  Pompeii,  the  layers  upon  layers 
of  ashes  and  scorias  that  covered  it,  the  skeletons  sur- 
prised in  attitudes  of  agony  or  death,  all  concur  to  tell 
us  of  the  catastrophe.  The  imagination  can  add  noth- 
ing to  it :  the  picture  is  there  before  our  eyes ;  we  are 
present  at  the  scene;  we  behold  it.  Seated  in  the 
amphitheatre,  we  take  to  flight  at  the  first  convulsions, 
at  the  first  lurid  flashes  which  announce  the  conflag- 
ration and  the  crumbling  of  the  mountain.     The  ground 

is  shaken  repeatedly ;  and  something  like  a  whirlwind 

(232) 


THE  ERUPTION.  233 

of  dust,  that  grows  thicker  and  thicker,  has  gone 
rushing  and  spinning  across  the  heavens.  For  some 
days  past  there  has  been  talk  of  gigantic  forms,  which, 
sometimes  on  the  mountain  and  sometimes  in  the  plain, 
swept  through  the  air;  they  are  up  again  now,  and 
rear  themselves  to  their  whole  height  in  the  eddies 
of  smoke,  from  amid  which  is  heard  a  strange  sound, 
a  fearful  moaning  followed  by  claps  of  thunder  that 
crash  down,  peal  on  peal.  Night,  too,  has  come  on — 
a  night  of  horror ;  enormous  flames  kindle  the  dark- 
ness like  the  blaze  of  a  furnace.  People  scream,  out 
in  the  streets,  "  Vesuvius  is  on  fire ! " 

On  the  instant,  the  Pompeians,  terrified,  bewil- 
dered, rush  from  the  amphitheatre,  happy  in  finding 
so  many  places  of  exit  through  which  they  can  pour 
forth  without  crushing  each  other,  and  the  open  gates 
of  the  city  only  a  short  distance  beyond.  However, 
after  the  first  explosion,  after  the  deluge  of  ashes, 
comes  the  deluge  of  fire,  or  light  stones,  all  ablaze, 
driven  by  the  wind — one  might  call  it  a  burning  snow 
—  descending  slowly,  inexorably,  fatally,  without 
cessation    or  intermission,   with    pitiless    persistence. 

This  solid  flame  blocks  up  the  streets,  piles  itself  in 
20* 


234:  THE  WONDERS   OF  POMPEII. 

heaps  on  the  roofs  and  breaks  through  into  the  houses 
with  the  crashing  tiles  and  the  blazing  rafters.  The 
fire  thus  tumbles  in  from  story  to  story,  upon  the 
pavement  of  the  courts,  where,  accumulating  like 
earth  thrown  in  to  fill  a  trench,  it  receives  fresh  fuel 
from  the  red  and  fiery  flakes  that  slowly,  fatally,  keep 
showering  down,  falling,  falling,  without  respite. 

The  inhabitants  flee  in  every  direction;  the  strong, 
the  youthful,  those  who  care  only  for  their  lives, 
escape.  The  amphitheatre  is  emptied  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  and  none  remain  in  it  but  the  dead  gladiators. 
But  woe  to  those  who  have  sought  shelter  in  the  shops, 
under  the  arcades  of  the  theatre,  or  in  underground 
retreats.  The  ashes  surround  and  stifle  them !  Woe, 
above  all,  to  those  whom  avarice  or  cupidity  hold 
back ;  to  the  wife  of  Proculus,  to  the  favorite  of  Sal- 
lust,  to  the  daughters  of  the  house  of  the  Poet  who 
have  tarried  to  gather  up  their  jewels!  They  will 
fall  suffocated  among  these  trinkets,  which,  scattered 
around  them,  will  reveal  their  vanity  and  the  last 
trivial  cares  that  then  beset  them,  to  after  ages.  A 
woman  in  the  atrium  attached  to  the  house  of  the 
Faun  ran  wildly  as  chance  directed,  laden  with  jew- 


THE  ERUPTION.  235 

eliy ;  unable  any  longer  to  get  breath,  she  had  sought 
refuge  in  the  tablinum,  and  there  strove  in  vain  to 
hold  up,  with  her  outstretched  arms,  the  ceiling  crum- 
bling in  upon  her.  She  was  crushed  to  death,  and  her 
head  was  missing  when  they  found  her. 

In  the  Street  of  the  Tombs,  a  dense  crowd  must 
have  jostled  each  other,  some  rushing  in  from  the 
country  to  seek  safety  in  the  city,  and  others  flying 
from  the  burning  houses  in  quest  of  deliverance  under 
the  open  sky.  One  of  them  fell  foward  with  his  feet 
turned  toward  the  Herculaneum  gate ;  another  on  his 
back,  with  his  arms  uplifted.  He  bore  in  his  hands 
one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  silver  coins  and  sixty- 
nine  pieces  of  gold.  A  third  victim  was  also  on  his 
back ;  and,  singular  fact,  they  all  died  looking  toward 
Vesuvius ! 

A  female  holding  a  child  in  her  arms  had  taken 
shelter  in  a  tomb  which  the  volcano  shut  tight  upon 
her ;  a  soldier,  faithful  to  duty,  had  remained  erect  at 
his  post  before  the  Herculaneum  gate,  one  hand  upon 
his  mouth  and  the  other  on  his  spear.  In  this  brave 
attitude  he  perished.  The  family  of  Diomed  had 
assembled    in    his    cellar,  where    seventeen    victims, 


236  THE  WONDERS  OF  POMPEII. 

women,  children,  and  the  young  girl  whose  throat  was 
found  moulded  in  the  ashes,  were  buried  alive,  clinging 
closely  to  each  other,  destroyed  there  by  suffocation,  or, 
perhaps,  by  hunger.  Arrius  Diomed  had  tried  to 
escape  alone,  abandoning  his  house  and  taking  with 
him  only  one  slave,  who  carried  his  money-wallet.  He 
fell,  struck  down  by  the  stiffing  gases,  in  front  of  his 
own  garden.  How  many  other  poor  wretches  there 
were  whose  last  agonies  have  been  disclosed  to  us !  — 
the  priest  of  Isis,  who,  enveloped  in  flames  and  unable 
to  escape  into  the  blazing  street,  cut  through  two  walls 
with  his  axe  and  yielded  his  last  breath  at  the  foot  of 
the  third,  where  he  had  fallen  with  fatigue  or  struck 
down  by  the  deluge  of  ashes,  but  still  clutching  his 
weapon.  And  the  poor  dumb  brutes,  tied  so  that  they 
could  not  break  away, — the  mule  in  the  bakery,  the 
horses  in  the  tavern  of  Albinus,  the  goat  of  Siricus, 
which  had  crouched  into  the  kitchen  oven,  where  it 

was  recently  found,  with  its  bell  still  attached  to  its 

» 

neck !  And  the  prisoners  in  the  blackhole  of  the 
gladiators'  barracks,  riveted  to  an  iron  rack  that 
jammed  their  legs!  And  the  two  lovers  surprised  in  a 
shop  near  the  Thermae ;  both  were  young,  and  they  were 


THE   ERUPTION.  237 

tightly  clasped  in  each  other's  arms How 

awful  a  night  and  how  fearful  a  morrow  !  Day  has 
come,  but  the  darkness  remains ;  not  that  of  a  moon- 
less night,  but  that  of  a  closed  room  without  lamp  or 
candle.  At  Misenum,  where  Pliny  the  younger,  who 
has  described  the  catastrophe,  was  stationed,  nothing 
was  heard  but  the  voices  of  children,  of  men,  and  of 
women,  calling  to  each  other,  seeking  each  other,  recog- 
nizing each  other  by  their  cries  alone,  invoking  death, 
bursting  out  in  wails  and  screams  of  anguish,  and  be- 
lieving that  it  was  the  eternal  night  in  which  gods  and 
men  alike  were  rushing  headlong  to  annihilation.  Then 
there  fell  a  shower  of  ashes  so  dense  that,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  seven  leagues  from  the  volcano,  one  had  to 
shake  one's  clothing  continually,  so  as  not  to  be  suffo- 
cated. These  ashes  went,  it  is  said,  as  far  as  Africa,  or, 
at  all  events,  to  Rome,  where  they  filled  the  atmosphere 
and  hid  the  light  of  day,  so  that  even  the  Romans  said  : 
"  The  world  is  overturned ;  the  sun  is  falling  on  the 
earth  to  bury  itself  in  night,  or  the  earth  is  rushing  up 
to  the  sun  to  be  consumed  in  his  eternal  fires."  "  At 
length,"  writes  Pliny,  "  the  light  returned  gradually, 
and  the  star  that  sheds  it  reappeared,  but  pallid  as  in  an 


238  THE  WONDERS  OF  POMPEII. 

eclipse.  The  whole  scene  around  us  was  trans- 
formed ;  the  ashes,  like  a  heavy  snow,  covered  every- 
thing. " 

This  vast  shroud  was  not  lifted  until  in  the  last  cen- 
tury, and  the  excavations  have  narrated  the  catastrophe 
with  an  eloquence  which  even  Pliny  himself,  notwith- 
standing the  resources  of  his  style  and  the  authority 
of  his  testimony,  could  not  attain.  The  terrible  exter- 
minator was  caught,  as  it  were,  in  the  very  act,  amid 
the  ruins  he  had  made.  These  roofless  houses,  with 
the  height  of  one  story  only  remaining  and  leaving 
their  walls  open  to  the  sun;  these  colonnades  that  no 
longer  supported  anything;  these  temples  yawning 
wide  on  all  sides,  without  pediment  or  portico;  this 
silent  loneliness ;  this  look  of  desolation,  distress,  and 
nakedness,  which  looked  like  ruins  on  the  morrow  of 
some  great  fire, — all  were  enough  to  wring  one's  heart. 
But  there  was  still  more:  there  were  the  skeletons 
found  at  every  step  in  this  voyage  of  discovery  in  the 
midst  of  the  dead,  betraying  the  anguish  and  the  ter- 
ror of  that  last  dreadful  hour.  Six  hundred, — perhaps 
more, — have  already  been  found,  each  one  illustrating 


THE  ERUPTION.  239 

some  poignant  episode  of  the  immense  catastrophe  in 
which  they  were  smitten  down ! 

Recently,  in  a  small  street,  nnder  heaps  of  rubbish, 
the  men  working  on  the  excavations  perceived  an 
empty  space,  at  the  bottom  of  which  were  some  bones. 
They  at  once  called  Signor  Fiorelli,  who  had  a  bright 
idea.  He  caused  some  plaster  to  be  mixed,  and 
poured  it  immediately  into  the  hollow,  and  the  same 
operation  was  renewed  at  other  points  where  he 
thought  he  saw  other  similar  bones.  Afterward,  the 
crust  of  pumice-stone  and  hardened  ashes  which  had 
enveloped,  as  it  were,  in  a  scabbard,  this  something 
that  they  were  trying  to  discover,  was  carefully  lifted 
off.  When  these  materials  had  been  removed,  there 
appeared  four  dead  bodies. 

Any  one  can  see  them  now,  in  the  museum  at  Na- 
ples ;  nothing  could  be  more  striking  than  the  specta- 
cle. They  are  not  statues,  but  corpses,  moulded  by 
Vesuvius;  the  skeletons  are  still  there,  in  those  casings 
of  plaster  which  reproduce  what  time  would  have 
destroyed,  and  what  the  damp  ashes  have  preserved,  — 
the  clothing  and  the  flesh,  I  might  almost  say  the  life. 
The  bones  peep  through  here  and  there,  in  certain 


240  THE   WONDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

places  which  the  plaster  did  not  reach.  -Nowhere  else 
is  there  anything  like  this  to  be  seen.  The  Egyptian 
mummies  are  naked,  blackened,  hideous;  they  no 
longer  have  anything  in  common  with  us;  they  are 
laid  out  for  their  eternal  sleep  in  the  consecrated 
attitude.  But  the  exhumed  Pompeians  are  human 
beings  whom  one  sees  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

One  of  these  bodies  is  that  of  a  woman  near  whom 
were  picked  up  ninety-one  pieces  of  coin,  two  silver 
urns,  and  some  keys  and  jewels.  She  was  endeavor- 
ing to  escape,  taking  with  her  these  precious  articles, 
when  she  fell  down  in  the  narrow  street.  You  still 
see  her  lying  on  her  left  side ;  her  head-dress  can  very 
readily  be  made  out,  as  also  can  the  texture  of  her 
clothing  and  two  silver  rings  which  she  still  has  on  her 
finger ;  one  of  her  hands  is  broken,  and  you  see  the 
cellular  structure  of  the  bone ;  her  left  arm  is  lifted 
and  distorted ;  her  delicate  hand  is  so  tightly  clenched 
that  you  would  say  the  nails  penetrate  the  flesh ;  her 
whole  body  appears  swollen  and  contracted;  the  legs 
only,  which  are  very  slender,  remain  extended.  One 
feels  that  she  struggled  a  long  time  in  horrible  agony ; 
her  whole  attitude  is  that  of  anguish,  not  of  death. 


THE   ERUPTION.  241 

Behind  her  had  fallen  a  woman  and  a  young  girl ; 
the  elder  of  the  two,  the  mother,  perhaps,  was  of  hum- 
ble birth,  to  judge  by  the  size  of  her  ears ;  on  her  fin- 
ger she  had  only  an  iron  ring ;  her  left  leg  lifted  and 
contorted,  shows  that  she,  too,  suffered ;  not  so  much, 
however,  as  the  noble  lady:    the  poor  have  less  to  lose 
in  dying.     Eear  her,  as  though  upon  the  same  bed, 
lies  the  young  girl ;  one  at  the  head,  and  the  other  at 
the  foot,  and  their  legs  are  crossed.     This  young  girl, 
almost   a  child,  produces  a  strange  impression;  one 
sees  exactly  the  tissue,  the  stitches  of  her  clothing,  the 
sleeves  that  covered  her  arms  almost  to  the  wrists, 
some  rents  here  and  there  that  show  the  naked  flesh, 
and  the  embroidery  of  the  little  shoes  in  which  she 
walked;    but   above   all,  you  witness  her  last  hour, 
as  though  you  had  been  there,  beneath  the  wrath  of 
Vesuvius;  she  had  thrown  her  dress  over  her  head, 
like  the  daughter  of  Diomed,  because  she  was  afraid ; 
she   had    fallen   in   running,  with    her   face    to   the 
ground,  and  not  being  able  to  rise  again,  had  rested 
her  young,  frail  head  upon  one  of  her  arms.     One  of 
her  hands  was  half  open,  as  though  she  had  been  hold- 
ing something,  the  veil,  perhaps,  that  covered  her. 
21 


2-12  THE  WONDERS  OF  POMPEII. 

You  see  the  bones  of  her  fingers  penetrating  the  plas- 
ter. Her  cranium  is  shining  and  smooth,  her  legs  are 
raised  backward  and  placed  one  upon  the  other ;  she 
did  not  suffer  very  long,  poor  child !  but  it  is  her  corpse 
that  causes  one  the  sorest  pang  to  see,  for  she  was  not 
more  than  fifteen  years  of  age. 

The  fourth  body  is  that  of  a  man,  a  sort  of  colossus. 
He  lay  upon  his  back  so  as  to  die  bravely ;  his  arms 
and  his  limbs  are  straight  and  rigid.  His  clothing  is 
very  clearly  defined,  the  greaves  visible  and  fitting 
closely ;  his  sandals  laced  at  the  feet,  and  one  of  them 
pierced  by  the  toe,  the  nails  in  the  soles  distinct ;  the 
stomach  naked  and  swollen  like  those  of  the  other 
bodies,  perhaps  by  the  effect  of  the  water,  which  has 
kneaded  the  ashes.  He  wears  an  iron  ring  on  the 
bone  of  one  finger ;  his  mouth  is  open,  and  some  of 
his  teeth  are  missing ;  his  nose  and  his  cheeks  stand 
out  promimently ;  his  eyes  and  his  hair  have  disappeared, 
but  the  moustache  still  clings.  There  is  something 
martial  and  resolute  about  this  fine  corpse.  After 
the  women  who  did  not  want  to  die,  we  see  this  man, 
fearless  in  the  midst  of  the  ruins  that  are  crushing 
him  —  irrvpavidwn  ferient  ruince. 


THE   ERUPTION.  243 

I  stop  here,  for  Pompeii  itself  can  offer  nothing 
that  approaches  this  palpitating  drama.  It  is  violent 
death,  with  all  its  supreme  tortures,  —  death  that  suffers 
and  struggles,  —  taken  in  the  very  act,  after  the  lapse 
of  eighteen  centuries. 


ITINERARY, 


AN  ITINERARY. 


In  order  to  render  my  work  less  lengthy  and  less  confused,  as 
well  as  easier  to  read,  I  have  grouped  together  the  curiosities  of 
Pompeii,  according  to  their  importance  and  their  purport,  in  differ- 
ent chapters.  I  shall  now  mark  out  an  itinerary,  wherein  they  will 
be  classed  in  the  order  in  which  they  present  themselves  to  the 
traveller,  and  I  shall  place  after  each  street  and  each  edifice  the 
indication  of  the  chapter  in  which  I  have  described  or  named  it  in 
my  work. 

In  approaching  Pompeii  by  the  usual  entrance,  which  is  the 
nearest  to  the  railroad,  it  would  be  well  to  go  directly  to  the 
Forum.     See  chap.  n. 

The  monuments  of  the  Forum  are  as  follows.  I  have  italicized 
the  most  curious : 

The  Basilica.  See  chap.  II. 

The  Temple  of  Venus.  " 

The  Curia,  or  Council  Hall.       " 

The  Edifice  of  Eumachia.  l  i 

The  Temple  of  Mercury.  u 

The  Temple  of  Jupiter.  " 

The  Senate  Chamber.  " 

The  Pantheon.  " 

From  the  Forum,  you  will  go  toward  the  north,  passing  by  the 
Arch  of  Triumph;  visit  the  Temple  of  Fortune  (see  chap,  vr.),  and 
stop  at  the  Thcrma)  (see  chap.  v.). 

On  leaving  the  Thcrrna),  pass  through  the  entire  north-west  of  the 
city,  that  is  to  say,  the  space  comprised  between  the  streets  of  For- 
tune and  of  the  Thermos  and  the  walls.  In  this  space  are  comprised 
the  following  edifices : 

247 


248  THE   WONDERS   OF  POMPEII. 

The  House  of  Pansa.     See  chap.  vi. 

The  House  of  the  Tragic  Poet.    Chap.  vn. 

The  Fullonica.     Chap.  in. 

The  Mosaic  Fountains.     Chap.  vn. 

The  House  of  Adonis.     Chap.  vn. 

The  House  of  Apollo. 

The  House  of  Meleagcr. 

The  House  of  the  Centaur. 

The  House  of  Castor  and  Pollux.    Chap.  vu. 

The  House  of  the  Anchor. 

The  House  of  Polybius. 

The  House  of  the  Academy  of  Music. 

The  Bakery.     See  chap.  in. 

The  House  of  Sallust.     Chap.  vn. 

The  Public  Oven. 

A  Fountain.     Chap.  in. 

The  House  of  the  Dancing  Girls. 

The  Perfumery  Shop.     Chap  in. 

The  House  of  Three  Stories. 

The  Custom  House.     Chap.  iv. 

The  House  of  the  Surgeon.     Chap.  III. 

The  House  of  the  Vestal  Virgins. 

The  Shop  of  Albinus. 

The  Thermopohum.     Chap.  in. 
^  Thus  you  arrive  at  the  Walls  and  at  the  Gate  of  Herculaneum, 
beyond  which  the  Street  of  the  Tombs  opens  and  the  suburbs  de- 
velop.    All  this  is  described  in  chap.  rv. 

Here  are  the  monuments  in  the  Street  of  the  Tombs : 

The  Sentry  Box.  See  Chap.  IV. 

The  Tomb  of  Mamia. 

The  Tomb  of  Ferentius. 

The  Sculptor's  Atelier. 

The  Tomb  with  the  Wreaths. 

The  Public  Bank. 

The  House  of  the  Mosaic  Columns. 

The  Villa  of  Cicero. 

The  Tomb  of  Scaurus. 


AN  ITINERARY.  249 

The  Round  Tomb.  See  Chap.  rv. 

The  Tomb  with  the  Marble  Door. 

The  Tomb  of  Libella. 

The  Tomb  of  Calventius. 

Tlie  Tomb  of  Nevoleia  Tyche. 

TJie  Funereal  Triclinium. 

The  Tomb  of  Labeo. . 

The  Tombs  of  the  Arria  Family. 
-     Hie  Villa  of  Diomed. 

Having  visited  these  tombs,  re-enter  the  city  by  the  Herculaneum 
Gate,  and,  returning  over  part  of  the  way  already  taken,  find  the 
Street  of  Fortune  again,  and  there  see  — 

The  House  of  the  Faun.    Chap.  vu. 

The  House  with  the  Black  Wall. 

The  House  with  the  Figured  Capitals. 

The  House  of  the  Grand  Duke. 

The  House  of  Ariadne. 

The  House  of  the  Hunt.    Chap.  \u. 

You  thus  reach  the  place  where  the  Street  of  Stabias  turns  to  the    « 
right,  descending  toward  the  southern  part  of  the  city.     Before 
taking  this  street,  you  will  do  well  to  follow  the  one  in  which  you 
already  are  to  where  it  ends  at  the  Nola  Gate,  which  is  "worth  see- 
ing.    See  chap.  iv. 

The  Street  of  Stabice  marks  the  limit  reached  by  the  excavations. 
To  the  left,  in  going  down,  you  will  find  the  handsome  House  of .» 
Lucretius.    See  chap.  vn. 

On  the  right  begins  a  whole  quarter  recently  discovered  and  not 
yet  marked  out  on  the  diagram.     Get  them  to  show  you  — 

The  House  of  Siricus.    Chap.  vn. 

Tlie  Hanging  Balconies.    Chap.  in. 

The  New  Bakery.     Chap.  in. 

Turning  to  the  left,  below,  the  the  Street  of  Stabioc  you  will  cross  ^ 
the  open  fields,  above  the  part  of  the  city  not  yet  cleared,  as  far  as 
the  Amp7ut7teatre.     See  chap.  vin. 

Then,  retracing  your  steps  and  intersecting  the  Street  of  Stabia^, 
you  enter  a  succession  of  streets,  comparatively  wide,  which  wilT^ 
lead  you  back  to  the  Forum.     You  will  there  find,  on  your  right, 


250  TIIE   WONDEKS   OF   POMPEII. 

the  Hot  Baths  of  Stabice.  See  cliap.  v.  On  your  left  is  the  House 
of  Cornelius  Bufits  and  that  of  Proculus,  recently  discovered.  See 
chap.  yii. 

There  now  remains  for  you  to  cross  the  Street  of  Abundance  at 
the  southern  extremity  of  the  city.  It  is  the  quarter  of  the  trian- 
gular Forum,  and  of  the  Theatres — the  most  interesting  of  all. 

The  principal  monuments  to  be  seen  are  — 

The  Temple  of  Isis.    See  chap.  vii. 

The  Curia  Isiaca. 

The  Temple  of  Hercules.    Chap.  yii. 

The  Grand  Theatre.     Chap.  vin. 

The  Smaller  Theatre.  " 

The  Barracks  of  the  Gladiators.    Chap.  vin. 

At  the  farther  end  of  these  barracks  opens  a  small  gate  by  which 
you  may  leave  the  city,  after  having  made  the  tour  of  it  in  three  - 
hours,  on  this  first  excursion.  On  your  second  visit  you  will  be  able 
to  go  about  without  a  guide. 


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.  |  *  University  of  Cali' 

^jt£/ftj  Berkeley 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


